Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Every year, I do my best to approach December as a passage of time, just another month. Some years I do better than others.

The anniversary of my father’s death is on the 14th, and my Oupa Mike on the 12th… Just before Christmas is Oupa Mike’s birthday.

I remember the eleven year old me running into the safety of Oupa Mike’s arms the night my father died.

I remember a 14 year old Kev holding me the morning Oupa Mike died. The unsure reassurance we offered each other.

December holds memories I don’t want to remember, but just can’t forget.

I have found Christmas more difficult since the kids moved out. At least when the kids were home, I had a reason to go through the motions. They all have their own lives. Own friends. New traditions and memories to make. I never…