Last Xmas Card

I begged for another holiday with you. I may not have "begged" you, I don't think begging would work anyhow, but it's what I wanted so badly. I begged for more time for you, time to buy presents for you and give you pointless cards and share meaningful sentiments, to wear labels of our deepest feelings.
It makes me realize just how few we've had, in my memory anyhow.

• The one where we shared the innocent joy of setting up a race car track.
• The one where you came on Christmas eve and surprised us; you came all the way from the Yukon overnight on a bus and took mom shopping at Toys R Us and bought everything in sight. You even bought things for Dani.
• The one where you came to stay with me in my apartment while I was in college. I made you a stocking; you loved my cooking, and napped happily on my sofa.

There has to be more than that. Is there? I strain to remember them, Dad.
If there is one missing, I pray that one day while I sit watching snow fall, my own wrinkles appearing deeper and more defined, and I look back on years.. I dream that then, a single snowflake of a memory will fall silently down and land on my skin and as it melts into me I will be given the gift of a lost holiday with you.

Dad, what if Christmas was as small as a single decoration? What if the entire holiday could be hung on a tree? Somehow, I see the world with your eyes now, and truthfully, that simple Christmas living inside of one tiny bit of flock, seems so perfect... so serene... so ideal. What is this holiday Dad? What has it meant to you? What memories do you cherish? Are they the same as mine?

I bought your card today. I used to pour over the prose in each one, looking for one that said just the pefect thing. It seemed so important then. 'Oh! I have to get Dad's card, I can't forget.'
It's a piece of colorful paper, Dad.
And today when I bought it, I scanned the words and maybe one line or two was true.. the rest seemed almost... obligation. Buy a card, write a scentence, sign it with x's and o's and seal it with a lick. Mail it and know that the person reading it will know how much you care. 'When you care enough to send the very best.' Ha!
I`m sorry Hallmark but have you heard my dad is dieing? Do you make a `Last Christmas` card? That one single action of buying a card seems so pointless now. Something I used to put so much importance into, now, I could barely read them. They were just words, paper, glue, glitter.

More like: `Hallmark, when you dont think the gift you bought is quite enough to prove your love.`

I love you Daddy, I always will. And Christmas IS only a decoration, Dad. Thank you for the gems you`ve given me every December 25th. The safety and satisfaction of knowing that out in the world somewhere there was My Dad: Christmas Hero.
I owe you my life. And when everyone wakes to Xboxes and 14 karat gold, I`ll watch the snow fall and wait for my gifts from you Dad, the perfect, unique, quickly melting droplets of days gone by.