Christmas Eve Tradition comes to an end

I've spent the last hour searching for a photo of Dad and me leaving for our Christmas Eve Tradition.  I can't find the photo and it's breaking my heart.

Sometime ago I swung by Mom and Dad's house on Christmas eve.  Dad cornered me and said he hadn't shopped for mom yet and would I go shopping with him. A little pissed at him I agreed.

We left and mom made out like a bandit.

Thus started the tradition.

Over the years the tradition evolved to it being planned and Dad and I would go to lunch. A little father/daughter time. 

It evolved again to where Dad would buy me a gift. Something HE bought just for me. Not something mom bought and put his name on it.  Each year I thought long and hard about what this gift would be. I tried, every year, to make it something dad would know something about. That was the hard part.

The early years I was simple. A bottle of my favorite perfume. A sweater. Easy stuff.

Then as I got older it became more challenging.  Coming up with something from Dad was not an easy task.  One year I got hiking boots. Another year I got knives. And yet another year I got a food processor.

But see the thing is, it was never about the gifts.  I would often tell Dad I didn't need anything and he'd pester me until I came up with something. 

It was about spending time with Dad. And he spending time with me.  I knew he looked forward to it, and so did I. 

Today I won't be shopping with Dad. Wow! That hurts to type.  I knew today would be difficult and have tried to put things out of my mind, but the truth is, I want to remember. I want to think about all the crazy adventures he took me on in search of the perfect gift for mom.

We spent hours one year driving to the other side of Tucson looking for lounge chairs he wanted for the back deck so mom could lay on them and read.  We drove and drove and drove.  Getting to the store he saw them at (cuz God forbid they be at any other store) and turned out the store was closed on Christmas Eve.  So we did what any normal family would do. We drove to a TRUCK car wash and had lunch at a greasy spoon diner.

Cranky at the time, but I'm thrilled now we did it. Because I can not only feel the sadness of the loss but smile at the crazy side of Dad determined to find what he "remembered" from months ago.

I'll miss Dad more today and likely tomorrow.  But I can feel some sort of comfort in knowing that he loved those days we spent together as much as I did.

And since I can't find the photo of dad and I leaving for our day, I'll leave you with one from the 80's (can you tell?).