Entry 3: Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas, Angela! And how truly memorable it was!
But first, a lament: While this wasn't Jonathan's first Christmas without his father, it was the first time Michael failed to call or send a gift for his son, and I just can't rationalize it anymore. I can understand him ignoring me – he has certainly received the divorce papers by now – but I can't come up with one decent excuse for Michael's neglect of his son. And, in truth, I can only imagine how much more difficult the day might have been had Tony and Sam not been here. As it was, the only mention Jonathan made of Michael was before bed when he wondered aloud what I thought his father was doing. I played the role of diplomat and reassured him that wherever Michael was, I'm sure he wished he could be with his son. What a load of baloney! Not a card, not a present, not a phone call. How did I ever fall in love with the man? I can only be thankful he's out of our life, and even knowing Jonathan deserves to have his father in his life, I can't help but hope it stays that way.
And with that single dark cloud cleared up, I can focus on the joyousness of the day. Today was the warmest family environment in which I can ever remember spending Christmas since before Daddy died. And we're not even a family – well, not really. But no one peering through a window today would have known that. We opened presents, danced around the living room in our pajamas, played with our new toys, and helped Tony prepared a turkey dinner fit for royalty. Sam and Jonathan fell asleep between me and Tony on the couch as we watched "It's a Wonderful Life," and I swear I've never known such contentment. I didn't expect to find such a true friend in Tony Micelli, especially so quickly. He is the most genuine person I've ever known, and so unlike myself: outgoing, talkative, energetic, extroverted. He's been so much fun to get to know, and he makes it so easy to forget that I sign his paycheck every week.
And I know it was an important Christmas for him, too. After helping him clear out his father's apartment last week, I caught a glimpse of the boy he once was. He has had a remarkable life that, to a "WASP" like me, seems almost foreign with its deep ethnic, working class mores. And even though there are gaps I'm eager to fill in, just seeing the love and pride he has for his father was proof positive of the kind of man he is. He couldn't have been any more proud if his dad were the President of the United States instead of a garbage collector. It's that work ethic and deeply instilled love of family that allows Tony to place his daughter's welfare above any sense of "proper" or "old-fashioned" gender roles. It's what brought him onto my family's life.
And now, with the snow falling gently outside and the heady effects of egg nog warming my mind and heart, I can put aside pride and propriety and say honestly that I owe Tony for bringing so much back into my life. Our home was warm and loud and festive in a way I don't think any of us had experienced in a very long time. And I can't think of a better Christmas present than that.