Day 11. Christmas Fruit Drops - One of Dad's Favourites

My sister Janet wrote a lovely post on her Facebook page yesterday. She wanted to do a little Christmas baking. Finding one old recipe set her thoughts off in a different direction. Her post was so touching that I asked if I could share it here today on my blog. She agreed.

by my sister Janet

Tonight I felt like baking something Christmasy. I am more of a cook than a baker, but at Christmas time I try to do a little baking. I dug out a cookbook of some of my mom’s recipes; you know the kind -- old favourites that conjure up wonderful memories of home. I had a recipe in mind, but I came across a different one called Christmas Fruit Drops with the note beside it: "These were one of Dad’s favourites".

And I realized how much I miss him. In a few days it will be fifteen years since Dad passed away. Fifteen years! So much has changed. Fifteen years ago my kids were 8 and 6 years old, and, along with the rest of the grandkids, they were the apple of Grandpa’s eye. I wish he could see them now as adults. I think Dad and Matt would be great friends. He has his grandfather’s looks and build, incredibly so, but he didn’t inherit his grandfather’s shyness. I think Matt would have drawn Dad out and would have asked him questions about 'the olden days' and how to use his tools; they would have talked about cars, and jobs, and goals. And I think Dad would be quietly proud.

My daughter Becca, lovingly called Becky by my dad, barely remembers her Grandpa G. That makes me sad because they held a special place in each other’s heart. I think my dad would have been so pleased with her “I can do it” attitude and her artistic abilities. He was creative in so many ways, and I think he would fully appreciate all that she can do.

I wish my Dad was here to see where we live. I know he would probably have laughed when he first saw our acreage and wondered (he wouldn’t have said it out loud to us) what on earth we were going to do with this untamed piece of land. But I know he would have come to love it as we have – and would probably have built us a hand cultivator to keep at bay those weeds that are endlessly out of control in our garden!

How I wish I could walk to the top of the hill with Dad and sit at our picnic table (he would probably bring along a hammer to tap in any nails that stuck out) and visit. But he is not here, so we can’t. And I miss him. So instead, tonight I bake Christmas Fruit Drops, and I remember him with love.

* * *

Dad,

You are loved

You are missed

You are remembered

♥

Wishing you comfort and joy today.

Hugs,

Brenda

xox

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