ABSTRACT
I genuinely meant it. Surprising really, given how much a part of
Christmas Brent always was. As kids, we used to race down to the
tree together on Christmas morning, eager to tear open our gifts.
Stockings came last, for they were filled with fruit and socks and
things not nearly so fascinating as what was under the tree. As we
grew older, I loved picking gifts for him. Hockey equipment, shirts,
sweaters, and one year a “fish” tie. Brent had recently begun his first
“real” job and now wore suits to work. I remember his quizzical look
as he pulled the colorful salmon out of the box. “Ahh . . . it’s a fish,
Brenda,” he said. “Yes, it’s the latest trend-you’ll see, they will all
be wearing them!” I replied. The trend never took off, but Brent made
the tie a regular part of his suit rotation. Time passed and holiday
time changed. We had families and homes of our own, and getting
together at Christmas was one of the few times our family would
reunite at one table. I remember our last one, all of us wearing those
silly colored paper hats you find in Christmas crackers. Thirty-seven
Christmases together, and now our sixth without him.