The true meaning of Christmas

I was born and raised at a time and place, where Christmas is celebrated as the holiday for giving.

The birth of Jesus can be taken literally – with religious overtones – or abstracted as the birth and personification of hope upon earth.

Every calendar year ends a week later; all of a sudden we realize how faithfully life’s cycles repeat themselves, and introspection brings not just age and wisdom but appreciation for the past – both recent and distant.

I spent Christmas cooking and sharing the meal with my family, and the better part of the day with my Dad, at the hospital.

To my surprise, hospital meals apparently taste great when you’re an octogenarian with so much lively energy and wisdom compressed into an aged body.

Unsurprisingly, those that observe you, might think that you’re just a grumpy old man, raving over something as simple as the preparation of you meal. Despite one’s grim surroundings, a tasty meal is heaven on a plate.

From those hours I spent with my Father today, and on previous days, I gathered a few more notches of humility and appreciation for life, simple for what it is: a full-sense aura experiencing the present, with endless hope about the future.

My Dad’s not afraid of the unavoidable ending of his personal journey, but in his own words, not just yet.

Life’s grand when shared with others that simply listen to what one has to say, and giving the gift of life – such as that of a parent through the birth of a child – is probably the true meaning of Christmas.

With lots of love for my Dad, Merry Christmas.