I hung the lights while you were gone. Three weeks early, but who’s counting Christmas cheer. Your dad was born in November and this is the month you’re burying him. Out in Arlington with the other soldiers. I hear the leaves blaze red in Virginia this time of year. Sure wish I was there with you. We’ve never buried a parent together. Never lost a parent until now. The house seemed dark after you left so I went to the garage and dug out the lights.

You’re leaving on a jet plane. Actually, you’ve already left, but I like that song. It reminds me of my childhood. All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go, I’m standing here outside your door, I hate to wake you up to say good-bye. But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn, the taxi’s waiting He’s blowing his horn. Already I’m so lonesome I could die. So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go. ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go…

You didn’t want to go by yourself, but finding a babysitter for five boys is no small feat. Not to mention the cost of two plane tickets. “We made a lot of decisions when we chose to have seven kids,” you always say. We’ve missed weddings and funerals and countless other gatherings, but we’ve made our house a home so neither one of us regrets being stuck here.

Especially together.

So I hung the lights today. You’ll see them from the road when you come home. And you might think to yourself, It’s not Christmas. But who made the Christmas light rule anyway? I’m changing the rule. Death does this to people. Makes us reevaluate our lives.

I like little, white lights. A month of Christmas lights isn’t enough. From now on, I’m hanging them the first of November. Right after Halloween. All Saints Day in honor of those loved and lost. In honor of your dad. I loved dancing with him. Why is all the good dancing dying with the Greatest Generation? Now kids just jump around, or worse yet, shake their fannies without shame. What’s the point of jerking and twerking? Jitterbugging and Lindy Hopping was all about making your partner shine.

That’s the trouble today. Selfish dancing. Your dad wouldn’t get that. But he would love seeing you holding that flag in Arlington.

I wish I could hold you. Stand by your side at the cemetery. Help you bury your dad. But that’s not to be. So I’m here feeding the horses. Chickens. Dogs. Cats. And your boys. Your wild and wonderful boys. The lawn is mowed. The dishes are done. Firewood is by the door.

And I’ll leave the lights on for you.