The middle Saturday of December was most always Coop Santa Saturday - the day when my Dad was Santa in the Harvard Coop children's book area. I know I've written about it before. It was one of my favorite days of the year. We would all go and get our Santa fix, and then the whole big group of us would invade The Border Cafe for lunch afterward.
I was thinking of this today as I ran errands with my kids. I was missing my Dad, wishing we could've had more Coop Santa days. I was thinking I should've made plans with my sister to go to the Border today, to celebrate the memories. Something.
As I was thinking all of this as I drove Route 9 West, "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Philip Phillips came on the radio. This is the song that I associate with the days right after my Dad died. I kept hearing it at uncanny moments in those early days, and it started to feel like a message from him. Those of you who knew my Dad know that it was SO his sense of humor to use a song that repeats the words, "Like a drum, my heart never stops beating," as a message immediately after dying of a heart attack. At the time, I remember thinking, "HA HA. Real funny, Dad."
Anyway, it came on the radio today, literally as I was thinking about him and Coop Santa and all of that, and naturally I burst into tears. His absence is sharper around Christmas...which, I guess you'd expect with a guy who actually WAS Santa. I haven't had as difficult a time getting into the spirit this year as last, but that doesn't mean I haven't had several break downs. I have. Grief evolves and changes, but I don't necessarily think it ever actually goes away.
Likewise, almost fifteen years to the day after my grandfather died, I had a dream this week in which I had a rather profound conversation with him. That was pretty cool.
I know there are so many people out there who would tell me all this stuff is just coincidence. But to me, that seems like missing out on all the cool stuff.
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