Dear Nik

It’s been more than five years since you died, and this will be our sixth Christmas without you. The family and I have made progress on our grief journey, as we trudge through traditions, songs, and favorite recipes that remind us of you.

I think you would like the tree I cut down this year. I must admit, I missed having you here to do the heavy labor, but I did not miss the bickering over which tree we would select. Remember how I finally had to set down some guidelines, and we would alternate who got to choose the tree every year?

I set your special ornaments, the singing Santa, the nutcrackers, the statue of a black lab in a red hat, the train, and the snowboarding snowmen, in a special corner. The first Christmas without you, I could hardly bare to look at them. They still bring tears, but instead of bitter regrets and anger that you left us too soon, they evoke joyful memories of laughter and love.

Your sister still makes the chorizo fondue, and your grandma and I make the pumpkin pies. I grow pumpkins in your memorial garden, because as you know, real pumpkins make the most delicious pies. When I roll out the dough, I wear your apron, because it reminds me of you, and I secretly believe that act makes the pies taste better.

I finally got your dog, Chollo, a baby, Little Girl. She has brought much love and happiness into our lives. We have to take her on walks at least two times a day, and that has made Chollo and I much healthier.

We miss you Nik. We miss your sharp wit, your smile, your wonderful cooking, and your generous heart.