So here's the short of it, 
There is some sadness in this joyful time of year.

And here's the long

This afternoon, Mom, Russ, Greg, and I went to the Cemetery.  It's still so hard.  Christmastime was one of Dad's favorite times of the year.  When we were children, he would take his big army boots and go outside and make "Santa Footprints"  around the chimney.  Some years there'd be bits of hay strewn about, or what looked to a child's eyes just like reindeer tracks in the snow.  And for sure we'd try our best to stay up to see if we could catch Santa.  And it seemed that just as we nodded off, there Dad would be whispering that if we'd be really quite and tiptoe downstairs, we might just catch Santa.  We'd dash downstairs to see all the toys left under the tree, to hear him saying, "you just missed him".  Oh how magic he made it! 


Mom made a beautiful arrangement for us to take to the cemetery.  It's made entirely of plants from the house here in Chattanooga that the two of them made into a wonderful home once they moved -  Nandina berries, Holly, and a bit of Hemlock.  Greg was the first to say how much Dad would like that - that all the things came from "their place".