When I was young I grew up with my parents and family always around. During Christmas I can remember my father making fudge and giving it out for Christmas to our friends and family. It was a Christmas tradition of sorts. It was a way to share and taught me a lot about cooking. I loved those times. Other Christmas Traditions were the cooking of the Christmas pies. Dad would start the day before making upwards of thirty pies: four Apples pies, 10 Pumpkins, 4 Cherries, and many more. I used to think that was what Christmas was all about and I was wrong. I learn over the years it was about sharing yourself with others. That is why my dad invited so many people to our house on Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.
I miss those times. I wouldn’t give the memory up for the world unless I was offered a chance to do it again. I mean go back on last time and celebrate Christmas with my mom and Dad. I would make sure my sister Linda was there and my uncles and aunts that have sense passed on. I miss them all. Christmas time reminds me of them and it makes me sad to think that my family is gone now.
Even family that I once thought that I would always be connected to, are just distant memories. They hold nothing for me or my small family. One of my Uncles once told me I wasn’t part of his family anymore. He looked at me strait in the eye and said this. It hurt more than anyone could have hurt me with a knife. Soon after that my father was dead. If only I had done anything to deserve the treatment I could apologies and set a seat at their table.
I guess the sins of a father and family will never be forgiving.
I guess I will make my own way.