Living Proof

It must be that time of year, because I constantly keep thinking and talking about my dad a lot. It's only been two years since he passed, yet I sometimes feel like he's still here in a way. I still have those dreams, where I wake up in the dream while meeting him, and I always say, "Is it really you, Dad?" And he quickly motions his hands to come over, "Yeah yeah -- it's really me, hurry!" We have a 10 second "meet time" where we hug and say hello and then it's over just. like. that. Poof. Gone. I wake up almost instantly, either smiling or crying. It depends. I do believe these "meetings" in my dreams are real, because I verify it right in the dream itself. "Is it really you?" Or, "Is this real?" -- Meaning, 'am I really and truly seeing you in my dream as an actual meeting' sort of question. But why for only 10 seconds or less? During Mom's last day of radiation when they made her ring a b...

So this is what I've heard: Christmas (Jesus' birthday) was not on December 25th. In fact, it's been said it was some time in November, but the facts are still unknown. On December 21rst marks the shortest day of the year. (Stay with me here.) With the increasing darkness and the lack of vitamin D from the sun, people from way back when were depressed and miserable. Sound familiar? It was harder to find food due to the brutal weather and many people suffered physically as well as emotionally. There were more illnesses, more deaths, more sadness and hopelessness. It's been said that December 25th was given as the biggest celebration of the year so that people all over the world can have something to look forward to on the shortest days on the calendar.  It was a glimmer of hope, a light that shined through the darkness and a day to celebrate, to give gifts and receive love. It was designed to take away depression and hopelessness. Of course, it's a celebration of J...

Growing up, my parents would prepare for Christmas Eve. “The Feast of the Seven Fishes” was always on the menu. My grandma and dad would cook their asses off the day before the big event, well into the night of Christmas Eve. It was an amazing process. The party always started around 6 pm. Our Christmas tree was this huge, fake and tacky monstrosity full of candy canes, tinsel and those big bulbous Christmas lights that could produce enough heat to fry a couple of eggs on. Guests would start packing in, some wearing huge fur coats, four inch heels and flimsy low cut dresses along with the strongest musks omitting through every pore. Their diamonds could blind you if you stared long enough. The same “construction crew” would come in with their fancy clothes, all smelling like they showered in Old Spice. I always went to bed smelling that way because everyone would wanna “pick up the baby” and pinch my cheeks or pull my hair - anything to annoy and scare the living bejeebers out of me. ...