23 December 2014
Six Months
Hiya Dad,
    Well, here it is ~ a day I have dreaded. I have to say that I wish I could just be home alone today and cry. Christmas is in two days, and Mom will come over, as will Aly and Evan, for our Christmas Feast, and Johnny will be with his friend Valentin's family in Rheims, France. Dad, he has been in Paris since yesterday. Amazing. He knows you were there 60 years ago ~ he took your shoes to walk around in the city, to see the sights you saw, to stand where you stood. Here is his photo of the Eiffel Tower.

    I am so proud of him, Dad. We were trading photos and messages last night, because while he was seeing Paris for the first time, Phil and Gilda and Charlotte came up and we all went on The Polar Express Train here: Phil and Gilda and Charlotte and Aly and Evan and Mom and Cris and me. Of course, Johnny's photos from Paris were a little more incredible than our Fishers-to-Noblesville ones! One of the Conductors played guitar and led the traincar full of people in singing Christmas songs ~ our favorite was when he played "Feliz Navidad". I thought of you, Dad, because you brought home that old first "Jose Feliciano record that I grew up loving so much; without that record, his Christmas song would not be so special to me ~ I loved it because I loved that old first album of ballads. So, thank you for Jose Feliciano, Dad.
    After the train ride and dinner at El Palenque, I went back to Mom's and played Monopoly with Phil and Mom and Charlotte until almost midnight ~ Charlotte won: she had hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk. I lost "last" but man, her Boardwalk's $2000 rent wiped me out. I'll see Phil and Gilda and Charlotte again today at Mom's. It is a good thing, I guess, because otherwise I would just stay home and be sad ~ it is crazy, really, for me to feel this way. I know you are so much happier now, Dad, and I know Johnny is okay, and Aly is okay, and Mom is okay, and Jim and Phil are okay ~ it isn't anything like that, it is just that I am sad. I am just sad that you are no longer here in this world, with me. You were a crazy strange difficult person, but you were my Dad, and I miss seeing you. I miss kissing the top of your head hello. I just miss stupid things.
    You know, of course, that I had a pretty bad pneumonia a couple weeks ago. Thank you so much coming and sitting with me for a little while that Thursday. When I first felt your hand on mine, I thought it was Aly, stopping by home on her way to Evan's ~ you and Aly are the only ones with those always-warm hands. But after a few minutes, even with a fever, I knew it was you, not Aly. When I opened my eyes, there you were, sitting on the edge of my bed, just holding my hand and giving it a little squeeze every once in a while ~ exactly as I had done for you that last week in the hospital when you were on life support. Dad, you are getting more see-through, so I know you might be letting go a little bit more. That's okay of course, but it was really great to see you; I hadn't slept for over 24 hours because of the fever, and it was so nice to have you there with me. You just sat with me like that for a while, then suddenly the scent of Grandmommy's Emeraude came into the room, and you squeezed my hand so tight, so hard for about a minute, and then you both were gone. I fell asleep almost immediately ~ so thank you both for coming and helping me to go to sleep. Right before I fell asleep, I remember thinking how happy I was that you and Grandmommy are together.
     Dad, I do not know how I will get through the next few days, these Christmas days. I really am okay with my little children now being grown and wonderful adults with lives of their own ~ I really am okay with Aly being an adult child who simply comes over on the Holidays to share a meal with her parents. I am so happy and proud that she is such a wonderful grown up woman. Yet inside my happiness at seeing my children so well grown, I feel the loss of their smallness so deeply and it simply echoes the loss of you. It is just a hard time for me right now, these Christmas days. You know me, Dad, I'll be okay, I'll persevere. Anyway, I just want to say that "I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas, I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas, I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas, from the bottom of my heart . . ." Feliz Navidad, Dad, Feliz Navidad.
Love,
Alys