Sarah points out my expressions of affection and helpfulness continue to slide into a series of clueless decisions on my part.
My wife tenderly and carefully prepares special wedge salads for dinner with our sixteen year old Laurel and her boyfriend Cooper. I tell her I do not want one. Just before the meal, I add blue cheese and bacon bits to Sarah's salad, which I proceed to enjoy immensely.
"Why in the Hell are you doing eating my salad?" my loving wife asks.
"This is your salad?" I ask.
"You said you didn't want one," she wearily replies.
Laurel and Cooper laugh but it's become too common an occurrence, adding exhaustion to permeate our lives.
A bowl of Tater Tots Sarah prepares for Che rests on the counter so it's one less thing to take care of later. She tells me this. Entering the kitchen I absent mindedly begin to clean and throw them away, frustrating my wife because it seems I do this a lot, though I have no idea.
Sarah opens a soda, lays it on the counter, leaves to attend to something as I enter the room, spy the Coke, drink it, and leave the empty bottle. Returning to enjoy her refreshment, she discovers it gone. She tells me I drank it though I have no recognition.
Regardless of how far I walk, exercise, climb stairs, eat well, refrain from excess and follow doctor's instructions, I've stopped getting better, though I'm not getting worse.
Walking the wicked, lonely road of cancer beside me, by choice nonetheless, Sarah tirelessly works managing the mountains so I can fight.
We're so tired.
But it's Christmas and we're excited anyway choosing to focus energy in what's bound to be one of the last gatherings of all of us.
Maddie's in College so trips home grow infrequent as she spreads her wings flying to the world she's creating.
Cassidy's 14 and we rarely see her, though she often shows up for dinner, sometimes converses and on rare occasions eats but they'll be presents involved Christmas so she'll be with us for that part anyway.
Che's as excited as she can be, wrapping most anything she can find to immediately unwrap presents, singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" without being able to pronounce all the words and even taping her own Christmas cards to the wall a foot from the rest.
In no time at all everyone won't be able to make it home anymore for Christmas, even if we celebrate in exotic locations.
Meanwhile, I perpetually shut doors meant to be open.
Sarah opens them again focusing on her cell phone to shop while talking to a client, tossing seasoning into supper and effortlessly feeding the animals.
The other kids ... Jeremy, Kristen and Chelsea ... are off creating their own worlds, raising a boy and three girls, our grandchildren, and doing quite well as they work to make things better than what our generation's leaving behind to fix.
Sometimes I wonder if it's like this for God, if you believe in such things.
I've done my best to be a good Dad but, Lord knows children grow up and leave, which is what kids are supposed to do and parents, understanding we've relinquished control, kick back and watch what we've created.
I'm sure God kicks back with a cold one watching Her children do whatever it is we're doing, though even the Lord Almighty must find it hard not to meddle.
We give our kids life and it's theirs to live without us hampering their creativity or chaining them to the past because we can't bare to give away what we love most.
But that's what parents do.
Even when we don't want to.
Mary and Joseph lost control of Jesus by the time he was 12!
He must have been a hellion during his pre-puberty years.
So Sarah and I won't see the kids or grandchildren this year but we've got four girls, a gay dog and three cats, plus my Mom's coming over.
We're going to make it as easy as we can with three teenage girls and a 4 year old.
It's been such a rough year and, I have more damn surgery scheduled right after New Year's so, our plan is to enjoy the Hell out of Christmas!
I don't think it's my last but you never know.
You should approach it that way too.
Happy Christmas Everybody!
