• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer
Women's Legacy Project
  • Home
  • About
  • How To Curate
  • Our Collective Legacy
  • Writing Online Memoir
  • Blog
Women's Legacy Project > Blog > CREATE > Blogging & Writing > My Annual "My Dad Died on Christmas Day" Post

My Annual "My Dad Died on Christmas Day" Post

Written by: womenslegacy
Published: December 13, 2013 -- Last Modified: December 13, 2013
4 Comments

Somewhere, in a box that is mislabeled, but hopefully still in my house is a picture of my Dad smiling, his eyes all a-twinkle. There aren’t many of those.  It was a professional photo from a group photo shoot that the Thorncreek Township Volunteer Firemen arranged.  I see that photograph in my mind when I think of Dad.   I hope to find it some day.
He usually was photographed in our house by my mom who was the world’s worst photographer.   She had a knack for cutting people’s heads off, having what should have been the center of the photo appear at the far left, or right, of the image, and insisting on only taking posed pictures that took so long to pose that everyone looks annoyed.

Dad's Christmas Wreath

So I am using an image from when he was around age 21 at the featured image.  He lived another 50 years after this image from his youth.  He took his last breath in this life around 6:17 p.m. on December 25th, 1986.  I was with him.  I was 29 years old.  He was 71.

I do not really write a post every year.  I write something every year during the season but I don’t post it.
Mom always told me that Dad did not like Christmas.  I am not sure that was true.  He never talked about such things.  I’m sure he did not think that money should be spent on things that were not absolutely necessary.  Christmas gifts, beyond some chocolate, an orange, and some nuts, were frivolous.  He loved peanut brittle and  peanut clusters, he would buy those at Christmastime.    He enjoyed sitting around the table at holidays and telling stories.  Like so many men of his era, he did not know how to talk to his kids.  But he could spin a yarn.
But I remember Christmases before I was in school.  Dad was always one to retell a tale a little bit differently than tradition dictated.  I remember stories about Rudolf needing a new light bulb for his nose, about trolley cars jumping the track, and other near-miss adventures.  I think he liked Christmas when little kids were involved.
Anyway, I think Dad’s brain died not quite two weeks before Christmas. Somewhere I have notes, but I have no interest in looking at them.    His heart and lungs continued on for far longer than we thought they would.  Mom must have had them continue some sort of fluids in order for his body to keep working so long,   but I honest don’t remember that.  When the family agreed that Dad would not want to be on life support we removed the intubation and ventilation after the physicians told us he was brain dead.
My mom scarcely left his bedside in the hospital those two weeks. I stayed with my Mom, not because I wanted to, but because I thought I should.  Sometimes it felt like Dad was there.  Really.  Then the afternoon of Chirstmas, I was so tired, exhausted really, that I saw things that could not have been. I was in a waiting room down the hall when I guess  I must have been dreaming while I was awake.  I swear I saw my best friend from High School, who had died 8 years earlier, wheeling a gurney with a body on it out of my Dad’s room.  I got it together after trying to nap for a few minutes and then realized that Dad’s body was finally giving up the fight for life.  I ran to the cafeteria to get my brother so he could be there for Mom.  Mom, he and I were all there at Dad’s side as he passed away.
My brother and I were in the hall a bit later, both leaning backs against the wall when we looked at each other and said to one another, “Well he did it.  Christmas Day.  He finally ruined it.”  I no longer feel that way.  I have rediscovered my dad.  I know of all the animosity my mother held inside herself and how it corrupted her ability to love or be loved.  I’m just thankful I have come to this place of understanding.
But yes, my Dad died on Christmas Day.  I am writing about this before Christmas, because, I want the actual holiday to be about the family I started after Dad died.  I didn’t think it would ever happen, but last year I didn’t think about all this, any of this, on Christmas Day.  Not quite 30 years,  it has taken me to separate  the bad from the good.
I’m writing this now so I don’t have to write it, if it comes up, closer to the twenty-fifth.
Merry Christmas Daddy.
 

Categories: Blogging & Writing, Home & Family, Spirituality & ThoughtTags: anniversaries, Dad, dying on Christmas, forgetting, remembering

Support Independent Bookstores - Visit IndieBound.org
Previous Post: « Divest from Cerberus and Other Manufacturers of Mass Murder
Next Post: Gifts from the Goddess: Words and Babies »

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Ashleigh Burroughs

    December 13, 2013 at 11:16 am

    Parents do have the power to impose themselves on our lives, long long after they are gone. So glad you can come to terms with this…. he’s with you, even if you don’t write a new post every year!
    a/b

    Reply
    • Nancy Hill

      December 14, 2013 at 11:29 am

      a/b, The older I become, the more I understand that I am very much like my father. He is still teaching me because I am still learning from him. Yes, our parents travel through our entire lives with us.

      Reply
  2. Phoebe

    December 13, 2013 at 7:30 pm

    Thanks for letting us into your life…the good and the bad! I aspire to be as bold and brave as you! 🙂

    Reply
    • Nancy Hill

      December 14, 2013 at 11:38 am

      I am not sure that I am bold and brave. I am a strong believer that information is the most important element for both peace and freedom, this is as true for individuals as nations.

      Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badgeShow more posts

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Footer

Recent Posts

  • Ending, and Beginning
  • For Our Daughters
  • Stand and Write
  • Context and Little Things
  • A Month is Just a Month… as Time Goes By
  • Processing Two Very Different Deaths
  • A Dehydrated and Delusional Friend Found Wandering in 100° Heat
  • About Women’s Legacy & Hill Research
  • Privacy Policy and Terms of Use

Archives

Powered by
  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • LinkedIn
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter
View my Flipboard Magazine.

© 2023, Nancy Hill, Women's Legacy Project of Hill Research Services, LLC

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.Accept Reject Read More
Privacy & Cookies Policy

Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary
Always Enabled
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Non-necessary
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
SAVE & ACCEPT