Snowflakes and Tears

Winter has a way of exposing the harsh realities of nature; gusty, arctic winds and frozen precipitation wreaks havoc on even the heartiest of souls. Yet, with the accompanying holidays, festive and joyous as they may be, the winter season can trigger an emotional warmth that even Mother Nature cannot defeat. There remains something to be said in taking a quiet, solitary walk along a deserted road; observing the irony of nature and life. The trees, naked and exposed to the destructive elements of the biting, frigid temperatures, yet the silence and elegance of gentle snowflakes settling to the ground around them. As I walk, reflective of the upcoming holiday season, once again another year, another holiday, another birthday without my dad, the irony strikes once again. This bold, strong person; frigid at times with a tough exterior image, like the harsh realities of a winter blizzard, can walk along this solitary road, defying the elements of Mother Nature. Yet, I feel the sting, and as magical and as quietly as the snowflake drifting down, the tears roll down my cheeks, unnoticed and unrecognized by anyone.

The holiday season was always my dad's favorite time of the year. For most of my lifetime, they were mine as well. Magically, neighborhoods will come alive with brilliantly decorated homes, festive lights and wreaths amongst the faint smell of poinsettia plants and gingerbread. As the decorating started, the air itself took on a sense of smell that only can be recognized as the sure sign that Christmas was right around the corner. Most importantly, it was the time of year where nothing else mattered. People actually cared about one another; politeness overcame rudeness. Friends and families getting together, laughing, singing and exchanging gifts. Once I was old enough to learn Santa was not real, the gift giving took a more "appreciative" overture. We'd spend the entire year, hustling and bustling, moving forward, with one foot in front of the other, trying to succeed in just surviving "every-day life", while forgetting or ignoring those around us. The holidays give everyone a chance to reflect on the past year...to slow down and appreciate those around us, and the "gift giving" turned into a "sign" of appreciation to others from yourself.

My father was a staunch, hardened individual. With the military serving as the foundation to his life, Vietnam War experiences of which he never talked about, coupled by the sudden loss of his own father boiled over to an all too popular disease called alcoholism. He conquered the drinking, as determined and motivated as he conquered pretty much everything else in his life, however, the end result was a man who wasn't known for his smile....except for the holidays. Perhaps that is when the holidays became my favorite time of the year...a time of year that I was reminded myself of my fathers infectious smile and sense of humor. Like a Christmas tree and all the festivities surrounding the holidays, it seemed, for my lifetime, that was the only time of the year his illuminated smile, lighthearted laugh and sense of humor was on display. The rest of the year, it was all business!

I've always grown to say, in a LOT of ways, that I was never going to be like my father. And in a lot of ways, I have succeeded. I smile more, I laugh often and I have defeated my own demons, although I may not have the war stories to harden my soul, my own life experiences have done just as good a job. Nonetheless, it amazes me how different we were when I was growing up. A man I despised for so many years as a child, turned out to be my best friend for the last ten years of his life.

A few years later, it is still a struggle to muster up the spirit and energy to fully enjoy the holiday season. While everyone else erects Christmas tree's and trimmings, lights and wreaths, it becomes a project of only self-doubt and self-pity that prevents me from joining in. The tree goes up, gifts get wrapped...then opened a few days later. Within a day or two after Christmas, the tree is gone and decorations packed away for next year. NOT the holiday tradition or spectacle I had once visioned for myself. Friends and family scattered far and wide make it difficult to derail my thought process from what and who I am missing during this time of the year, and the occasional attendance to a holiday party is cleverly disguised with a deceptive appearance of joy, masking the underlying pain and despair of a son missing his father dearly. Luther Vandross sang a song, titled "Dance With My Father", and one verse keeps repeating itself in my mind. "If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him..... I’d play a song that would never, ever end...."

My walk is about over, and climbing the step leading into the house, I turn around, gaze up to the stars and laugh silently to myself. Again, I have defied Mother Nature; defeated her by surviving the harsh elements, the stinging cold and blowing snow. But before I turn the doorknob, I dry my eyes, and in doing so, it makes me wonder...when snowflakes fall....nobody hears. The only sound that accompanies the falling flake is the wind, guiding it to it's final destination. And like the silence of the snowflake, my tears too, shall be silent; merely guided by the yearning of my own  soul.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Dad!