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.