A light in the darkness

When I was about 8 or so, my dad had a heart attack. Not his first, but serious enough for my aunt and grandma to come down from North Jersey. Dad and I never really got along; it was just one of those things. He always wanted me to be like him. I was always going my own way. A lot of friction over the years. Toss in the fact he was a drunk and life wasn't good a lot of the time.

I really didn't get the whole in the hospital thing. I saw the little dixie cups they used to give pills in and thought it was kind of cool, but mostly the hospital was a big, cold place where you just laid there being sick.

Since I was in school, we didn't go see him every day although having my aunt and grandma there meant we ate out a lot more. That I really liked.

Come Christmas Eve, Mom decided to go see Dad once more - me, my sister, my aunt and grandma. I never really knew how well he was doing, but, at that time, it seemed he wasn't doing too well and everybody was down.

After we left the hospital, Mom drove around a little, looking at all the lights, I guess trying to lighten the mood.

It was when we got home that things changed. My Uncle Bill and Uncle Alec had not only set up the trains (we had a modest set), but they really went to town. They'd set up some 4 x 8 plywood boards so the train ran around behind the Christmas tree. Somebody had added to our rolling stock with one of those boxcars where the man came out when you pushed the button and a searchlight car and one of those little tunnels that lit up when the train ran through.

I forget exactly when Mom mentioned my uncles had done this while we were out, but I was mightily impressed and, for your typically goofy 8 year old, the sight of that searchlight twirling around lit up the gloom for everybody and I got the reality of what had happened.

Nobody made them do that. They did it out of the goodness of their hearts. I go a little overboard at Christmas because it's a way of remembering what happened. Blondie gets a little depressed at Christmas because her son died before he was 1 and she never got to see him grow up and do all those kid things, so I do the tree every year. Yeah, she has to be dragged kicking and screaming into it, but once there, she's always glad it's been done.

I've never forgotten how that light turned everything around that year and how somebody's effort, not what they bought, made things better. Sentimental slob that I am, I've always seen the importance of effort. The Blonde was so surprised that I remembered the things she wanted.

It's nice to be the light. Any time of year.