Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Missing Him So Much

Sunday, November 29th I attended a lovely Christmas concert. A part of the program was a sing-along that included "I'll Be Home for Christmas." I couldn't sing it, just as I couldn't sing it seven years ago, the first Christmas without Leif in 2008. I still got all choked up with tears in my eyes, but I couldn't let myself cry. I didn't want to spoil other people's good time, and I was also the "official" photographer for the concert. I had to keep my mind on my task.

But it wasn't easy, and it hasn't gotten easier in the two days since then. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Leif's birthday. They are always hard. I miss him every day of my life, but I miss him doubly at those times, days we always shared with him throughout his life, with the exception of a very few years when he was gone in the army. But even then, most of the Christmases he was able to come home to be with us, and could still talk to him on the other holidays. I miss the sound of his voice, his laugh, his rascally twinkling eyes. I miss his teasing and his holding forth on any topic.

He would sure have a lot to say about the current presidential race. I wish he were here to say it. He'd have plenty to say about the Middle East mess, too. And strong opinions about the poor treatment of veterans, and the importance of the lives of soldiers. He would understand and agree with "Black lives matter," and he would undoubtedly add, "Soldiers lives matter." We should not waste them!

He would have a lot to say about the events of the day, from support for Planned Parenthood to dash cams for police officers.

And he would be reveling in the upcoming release of the new Star Trek and Star Wars movies, and grinning over the exploits of Super Girl.

There is so much of the world today that would make him angry, and so much he would enjoy, if only he were here. If only. If only. If only . . . .


This photo was taken December 10, 2006 when we met him and Donna for dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Brandon. He's opening a phone we gave him.