Darling Kate

Today is Christmas Day. Once, this was my favourite day of the year. Alexis and I would always do breakfast, and then at 8 o'clock sharp Mother knew we did presents. She would always appear in time for the wrapping paper to start flying.

Christmas used to be magical, but this year it was empty. Alexis and her husband invited me over to their apartment for Christmas Dinner, but that meant I had to find something to do with myself until 1 o'clock.

Mother and I exchanged gifts, silence bearing down on us. The presents were nice, but nothing special. Nothing's special any more. Afterwards, Mother took a bath. I went for a run. While everyone else in New York opened presents with their families, I ran.

I've been running a lot lately. Not to get fit, but because it's a good distraction. I love the burning that starts in my lungs, the way my knees turn to jelly. I have to focus all my thoughts on just breathing. I don't have room to think of how I miss Alexis, of how long it's been since I last saw Elsie. I don't have room to think of you.

After my run, I took a shower, and then Mother and I went to Alexis' apartment. I have four girls spanning four generations; each of you holds a place in my heart. Mother. You. Alexis. Elsie. I spent the day with three of the four. I know I should be grateful for that, but I can't help feeling that you were the one I would have chosen. Back when it happened, I would have chosen Alexis, but now she has her husband and her daughter, I'd choose you.

Elsie is an amazing distraction. The way her eyes lit up at all the gifts, her giggles ringing out across the room. She spoke. She called me Gramps. I teared up. I feel so old. I spent most of my youth feeling like I was waiting for my life to begin, and now I feel like I'm waiting for it to end.

My favourite part of Christmas is the evening. Once Alexis and mother had gone to bed, I would go down to Times Square. Most people go there to see in the New Year, but I always go at Christmas. You get all the magic without all the people. I think you'd like it, but I would be happy to sit at home and watch the crappy TV as long as I got to hold your hand.

Today feels like Christmas in a vacuum. It's here, all the objects, all the phrases, but all the feeling is gone. It should be magical, I should feel happy, but I'm empty too.

We're having your dad over tomorrow. I asked if he wanted to join us today but he refused. I feel so selfish. Here I am complaining that one of my four girls is missing. Your dad had both of his taken from him. I rang him twice today. I checked he wasn't drinking, I said it wasn't too late for him to change his mind, but he said he was okay. I think he's been remembering. I'm looking out for him, don't worry.

This isn't the first Christmas I've done without you, and it won't be the last. You'd have been good at it, I think. I know you would have been sad, you would have missed your Mother, but you would have still made it magical. You would have looked adorable in your pyjamas opening presents. I would have lavished upon you everything you ever could have wanted, and you would have worried about what to get me. Your presence would have been enough. Your presence was always more than I deserved.

Merry Christmas sweetheart. I love you.

Rick