Page 9 - Giv'er Miramichi Magazine - Christmas-Winter Giver 2024

in the living room. comfortable sleep. Awakened and terrified by a... giant
Suddenly remembering the living room, he stopped to chicken?
listen to their voices. They were roaring with laughter “Need any eggs?” At that, Uncle John cracked himself
again. No doubt Uncle John had traded in his red up as the gigantic chicken staggered out of the room and
underwear for some other outlandish costume. Jeremy, down the hall. ‘He’s really lost it this time,’ thought Jeremy
however, had no desire to see his uncle’s latest fashion but he smiled anyway, just a little, as he filed all the albums
statement. Instead, he pulled out another album. back onto the shelf. For some reason, he now seemed
Christmas 1963. He remembered his father telling him unaffected by the blue shades that surrounded him.
about that year: the first Christmas without his father’s
hero, John F. Kennedy. For some reason, Jeremy was
drawn to the photo of the family Christmas dinner.
Upstaging everyone was his dad. It could have been
himself. His dad was fourteen then, making faces at Gram
as she was trying to eat her dinner. Although she tried to
look bothered by his nonsense, her eyes told you that she
was loving every minute of it.
Jeremy’s dad looked so happy. That was long before
the two kids, the bankruptcy, and the mild heart attack.
Despite all of that, his father never complained, choosing
instead to make the best of what he had left - his family.
Maybe he had time for another last album.
Christmas 1980. Jeremy couldn’t remember that
Christmas very well. He was only seven months old. Was Gently closing the door behind him, Jeremy ventured
he really that chubby little kid propped up on that small into the world he had deserted just over an hour ago: a
plastic bike? Next to that snapshot was his father’s world of cigar smoke, loud talk and laughter, and a very
favourite picture. Cradling his first-born in his arms, his noticeable surplus of Christmas cheer. Attempting to blend
dad was just sitting there, gazing lovingly and proudly into in was not possible.
the innocent and promising eyes of his son. It was as if he, “Jeremy!” his dad called out from a large sofa chair in
Jeremy, represented the only true Christmas present that the far corner of the room. “Where have you been hiding?”
year. He thought he would take out one last album. ‘In my own self-pity,’ he thought. Then, remembering
Christmas 1993. It was his first year as a teenager, the his very first Christmas from the album, he moved to
year everything changed. He wanted more independence, where his father was sitting, plopped down on his lap and
more freedom, less responsibility and a TV and phone in cradled himself between his dad’s loving arms.
his own room. And there was his dad, carving a turkey and “Merry Christmas, Dad. I hope I’m not too late.” His
smiling as if all his problems of the past and present had father just shook his head reassuringly and held his son
no place in his home at Christmas. like he had fourteen years ago. The crowded room seemed
Below that was another photo of his father. He was impervious to the two of them as Jeremy threw his arms
opening the gift from his son: that wooden sign with his around his father: the most important man in his life. The
dad’s name which Jeremy had taken so long to make in man who had never given up on him. “I love you, Dad.”
wood shop and had finished just in time for Christmas. His he whispered.
father’s eyes seemed so bright, so proud and so “I love you too, Son,” his father returned. As he sat
appreciative and yet the flash from the camera made there, holding his son, oblivious to the living room packed
something glisten in the corners. Until that moment, as with relatives, he could feel a tiny drop of moisture sliding
Jeremy stared at the photo, he had no idea how much his slowly down his face below his thinning, gray-tinted hair.
gift had meant to his dad. Suddenly, a flash of light indicated that the moment had
“Jeremy! Whatcha doin’ in here? Studyin’ to be a been captured for this year’s album: a Christmas photo for
cloistered nun?” The door and his uncle’s mouth had the next generation.
opened simultaneously. Jeremy’s heart leapt up to his
throat. He felt like he had been awakened from a deep and

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