First Christmas

Today my mother, brother, and I visited my dad. It should not have been too surprising that there were many others who were visiting their loved ones as well. I watched the people, some in random clusters, others alone, hovering over random mounds of grass. I wondered what their stories were.

So we walk to the usual spot, and it's the first time I see my father's name engraved on a steel plate on a flat rock. Grass had already begun growing on what was once fresh earth.

One may say this was our first Christmas without him. But today, we were there. With him.