I was young, between a kid and not yet a teen. And I would wake up during the thunderstorms, the lightning flashing and the thunder rolling, only to find my Dad staring out my window with his camera in hand, completely mesmerized by the light show outside. As soon as he knew I was awake, he would grin and invite me over to see the show and take pictures.
“It’s the middle of the night,” I would say groggy but not surprised before rolling over, pulling the covers over my head, and going back to bed.
“One day, you’ll get it,” he’d say before he went back to snapping away.
This post was supposed to have a cheery holiday feel-good vibe, but those merry words eluded me like time, flitting in and out, prolific and rhythmic, as long as I was far from the keys or a pen. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. And then it dawned on me: this is the first Christmas without my Dad.
And whoa.
And fuck.
And this sucks.
The end of his life brought me to the beginning of a life without him.
It’s a uniquely painful road to travel. A heavy numbness. A gray void. Darker. Dim. A wide chasm of nothingness.
And there’s nothing you can do but endure. One step in front of the other. One moment at a time. Learning to live with an ache that will never heal.
It’s so fucking hard to be merry and bright.
In my Gen X-pick-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps way, I kept myself as busy as I could. A particularly grueling grad class (read and discussed two novels, wrote two stories, and workshopped 25 short stories from my peers) and a 30-hour anatomy course to renew my yoga credentials (hit that deadline with hours to spare) worked nicely.
Until they were over. And the holidays were here. Plop in my lap. Fuck.
But I’ve got some pretty great people, places, and furry friends to support me. And all things good it has been: family, friends, laughter, delicious eats, porch sits, exciting new reads, a great new show to binge, and rest.
And even though I can’t hear his voice or feel his pat on my back, I know he’s here. Always. His presence is felt in the cardinal chirping in the maple, or as the wind chimes tingle in the breeze, or the lights flicker, or my brother tells a silly Dad joke, or a photo. A photo I felt compelled to capture.
The river view (pictured above) is my commute (I know, right?!?). One night on my way to work, Nature did her thing as she does. I had no choice but to veer off the road and snap that picture, to preserve that moment in time.
I had no idea what it would mean to me later. I thought I was just diggin’ a sunset, as I do, but it was more than that. It’s an innate appreciation of the natural beauty in the world and the need to stop and preserve it– a connection I share with my father that spans space and time, through life and death whether it’s pulling off on the side of the road for a sunset, or getting out of bed in the middle of the night to catch the lightshow, or a stroll through Botanical Gardens, or a walk along a beach. The need to hold that moment in our hearts.
Grief overwhelms and swells, ebbing and flowing and hurting like hell. The pinnacle of it all is that the very last thing my father would want for me is to be sad. All he's ever wanted for me is to find peace and contentment in the beauty and joy that surrounds us everywhere. And in general, I do a pretty good job of this. The catch-22 is that now, it's so much harder without his light, his guidance, his support.
But I honor him as I can, stopping along the river to capture the moment, following my dreams, feeling my feelings, working on myself, and saying no to all the shit that no longer serves (which is harder than it sounds). But no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I know Dad is smiling over my shoulder. Always.
Not only do I have my own personal stops and starts, but we humans find ourselves in the throes of our annual endings and beginnings.
Seems surreal to me that we are at the end of the last month of 2025. Autumn has ended, as have the darkening nights in the Northern Hemisphere. Beginnings are soon to follow. Winter and the return of light are here, and we’re mere days away from a new month and a brand new year.
From me to you, hoping you had the merriest, brightest, most blessed, Solstice, Yule, Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukkah, your holiday celebration of choice. May love, light, laughter, alignment, health, wealth, prosperity, and goodness find you in 2026.
Until next year, find your creative, embrace your wild side, stay sane(ish), and happy reading!
Best, Aspen Hite
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