Dad's been on my mind so much lately. I'm so depressed about Christmas without him, even if he was grumpy whenever we'd have to go get the tree and he'd put it up. But then he would be happy with it, and always cheerfully comment about it. It's weird, though, that I wasn't depressed as much last year during Christmas. I guess, though, the longer you go without a person, the more you miss them.

Not a night has gone by in the past four or so days when I haven't cried about him.

Unless a father is abusive, I get defensive whenever people say they wish they didn't have to see their fathers. Sorry, but at least you still have yours. I hate playing the "baww, pity me" card, but it's not at all what I mean. I would give anything to have mine back (healthy).

And I feel sorry for people who have had far less-than-ideal fathers. Mine was so supportive and wonderful that I wish I could've shared his kind heart with others.

Sometimes it seems like Mom is stronger than me. Isn't that supposed to be the other way around?

I reread an email from my half-sister the other day that she'd sent me back in June of last year, in response to an email I sent her about reconnecting and growing together in light of Dad's illness. She explained about being abused by one of her mother's boyfriends, and these lines made me laugh in tears, because this is so Dad:

"...several years later my daddy saw him in the parking lot of a grocery store and chased him around the parking lot threatening to kill him."

She went on to say:
"I remember a lot of situations where my daddy stood up for me when no one else would and I tell you these things for you to know and understand that he loves you more than you will ever know and that he will support you and back you up no matter what. He will even stand up for you even when you are wrong, which no one else in my family would have done. He may not always agree with you, but he will always be there for you."

It's so true. Anytime anybody hurt me, intentional or not, whether or not I deserved it, he was there, and he was ready to fight them.

I hate Christmas. But I want to try to love it again, because I know he wouldn't want me to dwell on his death as a way of hating the holiday.

The one thing I want for Christmas nobody can give me.