the holidays just aren’t the same without parents. It sucks.
I’ve become accustomed to celebrating Christmas and New Year’s without my father. We lost him at a tender age.
Chapter XIV – July 1998
“…After our father died, we all but canonized my mother, and our goal was not to give her a reason to cry. Ever. My siblings and I took it a step further and choreographed Christmas variety shows, where every single one of us danced, sang, told jokes, played an instrument (one year, we added a ventriloquist act with Sammy, a Goodwill find), and did skits to fill up the long hours till midnight and presents….”
This is the second Christmas without the head of our household, my mother, La Jefita. Our matriarch. La mera, mera. And it sucks.
She loved everything about the holidays from her big, color-coordinated tree decorations to overseeing the making of her delicate, savory tamales. Armidita was happiest when we were underfoot, performing and telling stories, clapping and laughing until her green eyes sparkled with joy.
It’s just not the same without parents.