A Bitter Sweet Christmas Eve

Thirty-seven years ago on Christmas Eve I was only 16 and looking forward to a fantastic Christmas. My dad just retired from the Army after 25 years and after 3 tours to Vietnam. I didn't see him very much growing up but each time he came home it was like having Christmas.

Our Christmas tree this particular year in 1974 was so huge that it took up one-fourth of our family room. My brothers and sisters were still really young and all we could think of was opening our presents. I remember me and my brothers shaking every package under the tree and trying to peak into the sides hoping to get an idea of what we were going to get the next day.

Later that evening, my mom and dad gathered us together to perform the story of the Savior's birth. I was the oldest and in charge of playing all the music. My brother Faofua grudgingly did his part as King Herod, and my brother Lloyd Lee and Esela were the wiseman. My younger brother Ruben was a shepherd and my sister Naomi was the angel Gabriel with my sister Lisa as Mary. Since we were short on family members in my family to act out all the parts, it was fun to see my brothers switch parts to be Joseph and other wiseman and other angels.

This particular Christmas Eve was full of laughter and lots of special thoughts because my dad was home and we were going to be together for quite awhile because he was done with the military and now working for the IRS in the accounting department. Life couldn't be better.

The next day...my dad died from a sudden heart attack on the top of a hill where we were snow tubing. That Christmas year forever changed all of us.

Today as I reflect on this Christmas season I find myself sad to know that dad is gone. Although so many years have passed since the death of my daddy, the pain while dull is still present. I can still feel the tears welling up as my mind recalls the events of those two days. My mother rocking her husband's head on her lap and stroking his hair. Me, running down the hill we were on to the old St. Benedict's hospital to get an ambulance. No cell phones in 1974. My mother's parents arrived the next day stricken with grief and then the week long details and drudgery of preparing for dad's funeral. I never thought I would be picking out my dad's casket and looking for a burial plot with my mom.

What does this have to do with my dissertation journey? Life goes on regardless of where you are in the dissertation process. There are so many distractions and it would be so easy to just give up. But then something happens and you realize that you have to complete the hard journey. Today, someone wrote to me about one of my blogs and thanked me for what I wrote. I never think about the impact my writing has on people. Only that I write to try to understand why I live and why I think what I think. On days like these, I feel really close to those who matter and am glad for everything that comes my way. Life is good.