On October 3rd, I found myself at a home improvement store, where I was unexpectedly greeted by a vibrant display of Christmas decorations. I’ll never forget that date, as it reignited my childhood excitement and made me check the time. For me, that display signaled the official start of the Christmas countdown. I couldn’t resist sharing a photo on my Instagram stories, likely provoking a collective eye-roll from my followers. After all, for many, October 3rd is far too early to even consider the holiday season.
I understand that numerous shoppers likely entered the store, glanced at the Christmas items, and felt an overwhelming urge to exit quickly or perhaps even set the display ablaze. The Christmas season often brings stress, especially for parents of young children, as the fun is usually accompanied by a hefty dose of effort, anxiety, and expense. I empathize with these feelings, but for me, the joys of the season far outweigh the challenges, as they remind me of my late father, affectionately known as “Mr. Christmas” in our family.
At just eight years old, my father was diagnosed with a rare, slow-growing cancer. His doctor informed us that while the disease was terminal, my dad could still enjoy several years of life with a positive outlook and treatment. Despite the difficult circumstances, including the closure of my parents’ business a year later, my dad chose to embrace happiness and spread joy to those around him. When you realize that your days are numbered, it truly inspires you to live fully in the present.
With his boisterous and passionate personality, my dad thrived during the Christmas season. Each year, as the holidays drew near, he would fill our home with chocolates, candies, and eggnog, much to my mother’s chagrin. I vividly remember climbing into his van during snowy days, where Christmas music would fill the air, enhancing the magical anticipation of Santa’s arrival that he so skillfully cultivated for my sisters and me.
On Christmas morning, my dad took on the role of Santa with enthusiasm. He would carefully present each gift, reading the tags with flair and delight, his voice ringing out with joy: “Toooo Emily, LOVE SANTA CLAUS.” Our family Christmas dinners were loud and filled with laughter, with my dad donning one of those gaudy tissue crowns, ensuring that everyone left with full bellies and happy hearts. I truly believe he relished the holiday spirit as much as any child ever could.
My father battled cancer for 11 long years before passing away shortly after my twentieth birthday. The first Christmas without him felt hollow. I had returned home from university, and that morning it was just my mother and me. We attempted to honor my dad by starting the day with his beloved Bailey’s and coffee. I donned the Santa hat, trying to carry on his legacy, but it was a far cry from the joy he brought to our celebrations.
By mid-morning, my mother and I were in tears, reminiscing and finishing off the Bailey’s. The rest of the day is a blur, though I remember trying to create joy for my two oldest nephews, who were still young and innocent.
As the years have passed since my dad’s death, a bit of that holiday magic has returned. I am now married to someone who shares my father’s festive spirit, and together, we are creating our own Christmas traditions with our two children. They will undoubtedly remember their mother’s love for the season.
I am the quirky parent who buys matching Christmas sweaters for the family. I eagerly introduce the concept of Santa Claus to my kids in October, and I dance in their preschool whenever I hear Christmas music. Our home is stocked with holiday treats long before the first snowfall, and I enthusiastically plan baking days, despite my lack of baking skills. I leap into my snow gear at the first sign of snow and build snowmen with my children. I can’t resist belting out Christmas carols, even if I’m off-key. I look forward to decorating our tree and cozying up by the fire while watching the snow fall outside.
I’m also the person who firmly believes that the Christmas season kicks off on November 1st, and I have no plans to change that anytime soon.
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In summary, my early holiday celebrations are a heartfelt tribute to my father, whose spirit will forever guide our family traditions.
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