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  • It's the first snow of the season. The flakes begin to fall just after dusk last night. The wind blew the flakes high in the air before letting them blanket the ground. The landscape transformed overnight into a hushed, pristine world that looked like it should never be touched again.

    It should be beautiful. It is beautiful, if you are looking at things objectively.

    But I'm not.

    My father died five days before Christmas last year. One of the last "conversations" my mom had with my dad (he had dementia and could barely speak) was about snow.

    It was snowing the day he he died, a big ugly blizzard that shut down roads and airports.

    My flight back home on Christmas Eve was cancelled because of the snow.

    And now, this year, Mom is sick and has her second surgery is scheduled for this week. It's almost guaranteed that I will once again miss Christmas at home with my partner and our pets.

    Certainly the gift of my mom's life and well-being is more important than Christmas trees and carols and presents.

    But I wonder if it will snow again for Christmas. And I wonder if I will ever be able to see beauty in those snowflakes again.
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