So this weekend was full of taking down boxes from the attic, putting up Christmas lights and assembling the tree. I stayed away as much as I could. I know I need to be more helpful because Christmas decorations in this house are no small task, but the whole thing feels like a "What's Wrong With This Picture?" activity. I honestly thought we'd at least have one more Christmas, even given the hospital stays and the scan reports of doom. And so I'm just not ready to do this whole season without my father.
Our stockings are already hung on the mantel, including Dad's. We're not quite sure what to do with it. But it just epitomizes all that is wrong with feeling festive when the grand master of all festivities isn't here to take part.
Thanksgiving was hard enough but Christmas is going to wreck me.
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