In the first four Christmases after my wife’s death in August, 2020, I dressed myself and the house for a party in which one of the guests was gone. Children still came, friends still visited, but the missing soul was still missing. So, this year, when my daughter invited the family to her new home in Virginia, I thought it might be the perfect opportunity to start anew, do something fresh and different. I made my plans and left town and the undecorated house.

And I do believe this voyage to Virginia was the right move at the right time. I surrendered myself to the holiday, let others take the lead, and I had a great and joyful Christmas. I’ll probably return to decorating my home in Texas for Christmas next year. After all, I enjoy the holiday. And I might still find myself doing things as my late wife would have done them. But I think things will be done out of joy and happy memories rather than from sorry and in memoriam. And as much as it might have once disappointed her, some things won’t be done at all. And that will be okay, too.

And it feels good to turn my eyes to the future, because I suppose it’s okay for old men to dream. To think of perfect holidays, mountain trails, snow covered peaks, rushing rivers, rising voices, melodic guitars, and dare I say it, hugs and kisses. The stuff of life and living and love. I know the thrill of standing on the highest peak in Texas, and I can only imagine what future thrills might come if only I make myself available to receive them.