Christmas makes me stop and think of my loved ones, the past, the present and the bright future. It makes me think of others and what gifts I have given them in return for the gift of Life.
The river of time flows by, each day contributing something that influences the course or the flow of the water. It may hasten or slow it down. It may concentrateor dilute it. The river of time froze for me when I lost my Dad prematurely to cancer. We lost his other brothers before that, but it couldn't happen to my Dad. I didn't think it could. But it did. And my world fell apart. It was painful. In Death, there's no present, and no future, only the past. Sometimes, the past may not be as clear as I want it to be. It is only as clear as I make it to be. As years go by, one would think that memory lapses would create gaps, but no, my Dad's last words remain fresh in my memory, as if it happened yesterday... The pain was so intense the tears kept falling. Somehow, my work against cancer after my Dad passed away has ameliorated the pain somewhat. Of course, Time did, too. And now, this Christmas, when we visit his new grave, I can tell him I have taken the battle against cancer seriously and have joined the well trained team of one of the best cancer centers in the world. Each day brings hope for some, and comfort for all. In some ways, the comfort may be a lot or it may be miniscule, but I take pride in knowing I have contributed to a worthy cause in my Dad's name. This is my Christmas present for him. His life did not end when he passed on to the next world for he lives in all I do, in my little victories in the battle against cancer, in every little smile I give a patient or a patient's significant other. This is my legacy for my Dad.One Christmas when I was a little girl, I heard someone playing a toy piano. I remember asking Santa Claus for one but was he really going to grant my wish? I woke up and followed the soft mellow sound and lo and behold, I saw my Dad playing "Twinkle, twinkle little star" on my toy piano while my Mom was whispering loudly that I might wake up. I innocently asked my Dad whose piano it was he was playing with, and he pretended to scold me and send me back to bed.When I was about six, I was telling my childhood friend and playmate, Puring, about Santa Claus. I told her how Santa always gave me what I wanted and that my letter for him would disappear a few nights before Christmas. I reassured her that Santa visits every home, big or small, for that was what my parents told me. Christmas came and went and Santa gave me lots of presents. I was ecstatic. The next time I met Puring, I asked her if Santa gave her toys, too, and she sadly shook her head. I told my Mom about this incident later and she did not know what to say. A few days later, I grew up... and realized who Santa was.I had a beautiful childhood, unmarred by violence, abuse and terrible disappointments. My childhood was filled with love and care, surrounded by my parents, my maternal Grandmother or Baw, as we fondly called her, and my aunt and uncles. This memory of my early Christmases is what makes Christmas so special for me. I'll always have this memory to hold on to, whether I am in the midst of a noisy Christmas Eve Party, or consoling a cancer patient on the Eve Christ was born.
