And we've made it to the end, or nearly the end, of another year. It's a strange Christmas, coming so soon after my father's passing. We were never a particularly religious family, and my memories of Christmas when I was growing up are almost entirely associated with my mother (who I had a very emotional dream about the other day, which I suppose I should reflect upon in a future post) or travelling to my grandparents' homes, but my father's absence still makes for a slightly more mournful Christmas. As Janet and I were discussing yesterday, there's a reason why there are always spirits in all of Dickens's Christmas tales; the ghosts of the departed have their place around the tree as well. Still, I never would have dreamed that I would have been as happy at this time of my life as I am, and I am very blessed.
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