It is that predictability, the routine, the knowing of what to expect on days like today.
That ludicrous look on your face as I get caught up in the magic of childlike wonder. The belief in Santa, the sleigh and magical sounds in the night. The joy of waking up to the sheer delight on Kai’s face because Santa left a special gift and some biscuit crumbs on the floor.
It is the knowledge that come 7am you will be getting ready for church, creating an atmosphere that speaks of your spirituality as you prepare to lead a church service while many sit and listen attentively. Mom, rushing about, indecisive as to which dress to wear while you’ve already shined your shoes!
It is the table setting for three instead of four. A Christmas Eve dinner filled with less laughter as Kai takes your place at the head of the table. Reading Christmas cracker jokes that are so not funny that you can’t help but laugh at the silliness of it all.
That family picture of three around the Christmas tree. Where only a year ago we were four. The knowledge that we are still filled with joy even though you are no longer here, yet in some strange way you are.
The missing is in the routine that’s changed. The tell-tale sign of you no longer being here as we slowly carve your memory into our new predictability and a different way of doing. A way of being and doing without you . . .
An emptiness that can never be filled.
Happy holidays dad, be content in the knowledge that joy continues to greet us. Here’s a video of Kai opening up one special gift on Christmas Eve.