Having not felt the festive buzz upto now it is starting to creep in finally. This year is different for many reasons; we wont have a tree, or turkey, or freezing weather. But mostly granda wont be at the christmas table. I'll miss shouting into his good ear over the carols while perching a flimsy pink christmas cracker crown on his head. I'll particularly miss seeing him asleep in the chair (with crown still on) flanked by an empty whiskey glass and a box of roses.
But everything marches on. In spain (granda's spiritual home) the entire and complete macalister clan will toast him; his life, his sayings, his highs and his lows. The legacy he left us.
There couldn't be a more perfect way to celebrate this christmas and new year. In its difference; it is home.
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