Started out waking up and wrapping presents, but not presents of mine. Every year at the mall a group of friends wrap presents on Christmas eve as a fundraiser for the Mustard Seed food bank. Its a great event to be sure.
The time flew by. I had a good time and wrapped presents with a fury.
Afterward we went to visit my Grandpa. When i say we i mean my immediate family save one. He has been moved into one of those homes where they tell you not to let anyone with a walker out the front door. I don't blame them for trying to escape.
My Grandpa was lost behind a sea of alshimers, drugs, and the decaying body and mind that i guess would come naturally with too much time with no change and too much change all at once. I'm convinced some part of him knew what was going on, that his heirs were there to see him at christmas. A warm-souled Jamaican set the musical backdrop to the scene where he was playing christmas carols and hymns fused in a medley of smiles and eye contact to the immobile and mostly unresponsive group of elderly.
My Grandpa shed tears when i left.
Its something that you don't appreciate a life while its there the same way you do when its gone.
I hiked up a mountain and camped overnight on boxing day so it wasn't 'till I got back that I found out he was gone.
Every Christmas seems to etch its own identity on the sketchbook of my memory with a distinct experience or reflection. I didn't really know what was unusual about this Christmas until it happened all at once.
I think this Christmas I saw life as more than a day, more than a moment, more than an objective. I literally only gave 1 and 1/3 presents this year. And happily i didn't get any dvds. instead, a camping sack, a toque, a book. Things that somehow said life was more than 1.5 hours of escape on an evening after work.
A Life of work will be tied off in a 1.5 hour ceremony on saturday that will say only a outline of what it really was. Maybe if were lucky we'll all leave wondering how to live a legacy as well. To leave gifts that really say something.
Monday, December 28, 2009
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