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My Father loved Christmas. He chose the tree carefully and inspected the decorations with the last item for the tip being his choice of finishing it all off. I can see him seating at the head of the table, drumming his fingers listening to Christmas music, a glass of wine infront of him, never half full, waiting for Christmas dinner to be served. It was always a joyous time with the whole family together, enjoying each others jokes and laughter in galore.

And Christmas should be joyous whether by family coming together, or just the two of you enjoying the Christmas celebrations with love. Presents, yes everyone is looking forward to presents, but love is the gift that will always be remembered. Not everyone is blessed with good health but showing and telling those closest to you that you love them goes a long way. If not now they will remember it some time later.

My Father may not be here in flesh but in spirit he will always be with me. I shall drink a glass of wine in his honor and celebrate the memories we have created. I will tell him how much I love him and send him kisses. I may carry his ashes with me in a ring on my finger but the memories will always be in my heart locked in there forever. There will be a sad moment, I’m sure, but for all of us who are still here the Christmas spirit must be kept festive and new memories created.

A Very Merry Christmas to you all….🎄🎄🎄

My Father was an athlete, disciplined and hardworking. He trained high jump and long jump disciplines. He was also a fast runner. All rounder really. Maybe he was on the way to be the decathlon athlete. I can only go by the accounts of others, he never talked about it, but one summers day all his hopes and aspirations came crashing to dust. The day started as usual, the training was in full swing when the shotput hit my father straight in the head. There was no time for him to react and he collapsed on the floor. The sporting career that could have been was no more. It took my father 2 years to recover with thankfully no permanent damage to his brain, just a polite word to say no more any extreme exertion. That must have been the time when he parked his skis in the corner as well. There are pictures of him in ski instructors jumper but I haven’t had the joy of ever seeing him skiing. He bought me skis, took me to the slopes and taught me by explaining how to lean, where to press, how to hold myself. He was there for me all the way but there was no point in asking him to ski with me, once his mind was made up, on anything really, that was it. Skiing is my absolute favorite sport with the feeling of loosing yourself in the wind and the speed racing down the white snowy mountain is just pure exhilaration.

Regardless of the doctors advice he was not to be deterred completely. He found solace in nature. The surrounding hills and mountains of the village were the magnet to his soul. We climbed all of them, some of them many times. Getting up in the early hours to have the breakfast half way up the mountain holds a certain beauty to it all. The sense of an achievement reaching the top is monumental feeling, every time. The head is clear, the heart is pure and the beauty of rocky mountains around us breathtaking. Regardless of the saying ‘it’s not the mountain that is mad, mad is the one climbing it’ being one with the nature is priceless. His energy and the love of freedom you feel high up in the clouds was contagious. We went for many walks with his grandchildren and passed the love to them. They do not yet appreciate it but they will one day I am sure.

It’s Christmas….

Mr Sportsman