Three Christmases and New Years have passed, and still my Mom's sadness is palpable, an undertone of sorrow carefully disguised in the bustle of making merry. The ghost of my father still lingers, but each year it gets better. Tonight she didn't sleep away the sadness, the conspicuous absence. She got a haircut I noticed, and she wore red and we were all awake when the whole neighborhood exploded in sounds and lights. Holidays are still forced, but as the years go by, I pray his memory will no longer bring sadness and regret. When he fades away in her memory, I hope it leaves only thoughts of when it was good.
Happy New Year everyone.