Little Drummer Boy

I miss my father. There are certain moments, certain seasons where the memory of my father is heart-breakingly vivid. At Christmas I miss him terribly. But in a good way. In a way that means we did it right and that there are so many wonderful memories to choose from and reflect on.

My parents did Christmas beautifully. As a child, my house was always filled with music (throughout the year, but at Christmas especially), be it Handel's Messiah on the record player or my father noodling on guitar or all of us singing one carol or another. We'd usually start singing some 'serious' carols, but those inevitably broke down into fits of giggles. My mom put it best, "from the sublime to the ridiculous."

One of my very favorite carols is "The Little Drummer Boy." My dad used to 'sing' the drum part. By 'sing' I mean he'd, "pum-pu-pu-pu-pum, pu-pu-pu-pum...." with so much vigor and oomph that as a teenager it used to make me laugh. I thought it was kinda silly and could never bring myself to perform that part of the song.

On my drive to work this morning Drummer Boy came on the radio, and suddenly I found myself 'singing' the drum part - "pum-pu-pu-pu-pum, pu-pu-pu-pum...." and then I was crying. I sounded just like dad! It was like he was guiding me in how to do it his way.

I miss him, I miss him, I miss him... but I am grateful that his voice has not faded from my memory.