Ghosts of Christmas Past

I know it's a matter of perception, whether you believe in ghosts or angels. I choose to believe in both. I also choose to believe that, when you have lost someone special in your life, they cross over to become an ethereal being that some would call "ghost" and others, like me, angels. Tomato's or tomatoes; potatos or potatoes?

I dreamt of my Dad last night. On December 23rd, it will be 17 years since he passed away at the age of 82. It's always been hard for me to think of Christmas without thinking of my Dad. He loved the holidays. Starting with Thanksgiving, he put everything he had into making Christmas special. If you've seen the movie, The Christmas Story, you've seen my Dad. If I didn't know better, I'd say the actor who played the Major Award winning father in that movie, modeled his character after my Dad.

Have you ever had dreams that were so real it was hard believing it was, indeed, a sleep experience? That's what it was like when I visited with Dad the other night. He looked as I remembered him when he was in in his prime...handsome, strong, with a beautiful smile, his dark hair swept back from his prominent widow's peak hairline. Dad could have been the cover model for Native American Hunk, if there were such a publication!

As I approached him, all he did was hold out his hands, taking mine in his, and said "I see you now". Simple gesture, simple words but those actions spoke volumes to my heart. Not a ghost, but an angel saying that he was watching over me; that he sees me, not just now, but has always been at my side. Maybe he knew of my melancholy this Christmas season, with the kids being away from home; Piper being here in Michigan with her Dad's family and my not being able to see her; our worries and concerns as we try to make ends meet as a result of our "forced" retirements. My angel of Christmas Past spoke only a few words, but his presence resounded eloquently in my heart and soul. The visit reminded me of how much he loved Christmas, whether it was big or small. It's a time to give from the heart, not just from your wallet. To share and hold dear all the special times that make up my every day Christmas's; the gifts of love and laughter, health and happiness, peace and prosperity. Yes, prosperity. Didn't I just elude to the fact that Donn and I were reeling from our adjusted income reality? I did, but we are rich in love for each other, safe and warm in our own home, and young enough in heart and mind to look forward to whatever the future holds.

So, to my Dad, thank you for the visit and the chance to hold your hands and look into your eyes one more time. Merry Christmas, Daddy, and come again, any time. The door to my dreams is always open.