A Day in Paradise

There's nothing worse than being the sick mother of a well child. Today I am heartsick. I miss my dad. Twenty-four years ago at the age of 40, he died.

Every right of passage has been met with a deep sigh because he wasn't there. He missed every one of them. The loss felt especially personal because my dad died by suicide. In one agonizing moment, he made a decision that he couldn't take back, destroying his life and what was once normal for those who loved him.

So, what's a broken-hearted mom to do on the anniversary of her father's death? Go to Santa's Workshop. My husband, child and I made our second annual pilgrimage to the Lark Toy Store, which we like to call Santa's Workshop. Lark is the world's largest independent toy store.

Here's the setup. We are going to Santa's workshop for a preview. He and the elves are too busy, so we won't be seeing them. However, I will make a list and pass it along to Santa. He'll take it under advisement while deciding which gifts he will deliver on Christmas morning. In actuality, Santa will bring whichever toy received the most sustained playtime, plus a couple little things.

My job is to write it all down without judgment. I was having a tough time. I caught myself telling the kid that this toy wasn't that great: "I don't know, I think this is kind of cheap."

I heard it. I heard myself metaphorically peeing on the good time because I felt sad. I have seen this kind of mood go on indefinitely in the past, dangling precariously close to depression.

But today it didn't. I did what all moms do when we don't feel good - whatever is in front of us to be done. Kiddo indicated what was cool in word and deed. I made note.

In the end, we had some fun. We played with everything in the store, and rode the hand-carved carousel. We bought Jelly Belly's, licorice and all-day suckers.

I had a bit of a cry in the car on the way home. When we got home, I hugged the kiddo and said, "You are Larry's grandchild. Do you remember meeting him in heaven before you were born?"

"Yes," said the kid, "he told me he loved me."

Of course he did. I would have expected nothing less.