The second Christmas without him was easier.
I didn't keep expecting him to come down the hallway wearing his Grinch teeshirt, I didn't try to look over at him so we could share a quick eye roll at someones bad joke, or share a quick laugh at Mom for being scatterbrained about something silly. It wasn't weird that he wasn't sitting in his chair with tea or orange soda, with the house smelling of cigars.
We bagged up the wrapping paper without him telling us to. Mom stocked the stove and walked the dog and carved the roast. The family talked and laughed and ate and no one mentioned him.
The second Christmas was easier.
But I miss him every day.
