Christmas Without Dad

This story contains mentions of familial death.

I was twenty three when my dad died.

It came as a shock to us all when he had his heart attack. We were all living in different parts of the country, or in my sister’s case the continent, going about our daily activities. My sister in Canada was taking care of her daughter, my brother in Minnesota had just gotten home from work, my sister in Illinois was working a babysitting gig, and my little brother at home was in school. I was driving to a park to read a book when my older brother called me.

“Dad is in the hospital,” he told me. “He had a heart attack.”

I will remember that day for the rest of my life, but then one week later something even worse happened.

My brother came home to see dad while he was recovering in the hospital before he was discharged and sent home a few days later. My sister in Canada was driving down with her family and my sister in Illinois was getting things together to come up when our mom made a comment about dad sleeping in. My brother went in to wake him up, but it was too late.

He had died in his sleep.

That was eight months ago. I’m twenty four now and we’re celebrating our first Christmas without him.

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“Maybe we can go look at the Christmas lights,” Illinois suggested as we all sat quietly in the lying room of our childhood home on Christmas Eve.

“Who’s going to drive?” I wondered aloud. The last time we had all been together for Christmas was when most of us were still kids. We would all pile into the back of the family van so our dad could drive us around to see the best lights in town.

“Where’s mom?” Wisconsin asked. “She could drive.”

“Mom’s taking a nap. We should let her rest,” Canada suggested. Mom loved us, but being around all five of us plus my three year old niece was pretty tiring.

“I could drive,” Minnesota offered.

“NO!” The rest of us protested which earned us a wounded look from him.

“How about you drive love?” Canada asked her husband.

“I think I’d rather stay here and let you all have sibling time,” He replied. He grew up in a small family so our large one was a lot for him to handle for long periods of time.

“Can I go Mummy?” My niece asked.

“Of course you can babe, but when we get home you need to go right to bed so Santa can come.”

“Come on little girl,” I said. “Let’s go get our shoes and coats on.”

Everyone got up and moved to the kitchen where the entryway was. I sat on the floor with my niece and helped her put on her shoes and coat before putting on my own. As we all stepped outside to get into the rental can my sister had gotten when she flew in from Canada we all paused and looked at the driver's seat. We had never solved the problem of who was going to drive.

Wisconsin and Illinois didn’t have drivers licenses so they couldn’t. Minnesota was a terrible driver so that was out of the question.

“I guess I can drive,” I said. “I do still live here so I remember where to go for the good lights.”

“Shotgun!” called out Illinoise making us all smile.

Everyone climbed into the van, and off we went. Illinois in the front seat was charged with finding Christmas music on the radio while everyone in the back sat quietly looking out the windows.

“I want hot chocolate!” my niece suddenly shouted.

“It’s too late for hot chocolate,” Canada argued.

“Come on it’s Christmas Eve,” I pleaded on behalf of the three year old.

“Yeah Mummy. It’s Christmas Eve!” she joined in.

“Fine,” Canada sighed, “but you’re paying.”

I smiled and drove to the local coffee shop drive through. I ordered six hot chocolates and passed them back one by one.

“Thank you!” my niece said happily.

“She’s never going to sleep now,” Canada grumbled.

“She will if she wants Santa to come,” I said with a slight threatening tone. My niece’s eyes opened wide and she nodded.

The rest of the drive went by without remark. My siblings and I sang along with the radio and looked at all of the lights put up by the festive people in town. My niece drank her hot chocolate and sang her own versions of every song before passing out five minutes away from home. Canada very carefully removed her from her car seat and took her inside to the bed their family was sharing.

The rest of us settled back into the living room and put on “The Polar Express” which was our Christmas Eve family tradition. Mom even came out to join us. Us siblings said the lines along with the movie and mom said her own versions like my niece with the Christmas music.

“I don’t know where you guys got that line repeating gene,” Mom commented after she got her fifth line wrong.

“We got it from dad,” we all said in unison. Dad loved music and learning the lyrics to lots of songs translated well into learning the lines from our favorite movies.

When the movie ended we all went to our beds. Illinois was staying with Wisconsin in the basement while Minnesota and I slept in the guest bed together. I crawled into the bed next to him and sighed.

“I can’t believe dad isn’t here,” I whispered with tears in my eyes. My brother pulled me into a hug. “Who are we supposed to throw the wrapping paper at when we open presents tomorrow?” We both laughed through our tears.

“We’ll have to teach the three year old the tradition of throwing wrapping paper at dad,” he said to me. I nodded and rolled over onto my side. Before long I could hear the soft snoring of my brother falling asleep.

Maybe our first Christmas without dad wouldn’t be too bad.