Merry Christmas!

Christmas can never be perfect again, because my father is not here. Yesterday Robert made a mince pie from scratch, which made the house smell like Christmas. My father loved mince pie, and I was listening to the Messiah and Bach Christmas Oratorio and I just missed him like crazy. Oh my God. I can't even write this without getting teary. We'll have good Christmases and bad Christmases but they will always be incomplete.