Who are we? We are our stories.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Christmas 2012


On this day in 1990, Kirby Miles Berg, my youngest brother, died in a house fire, leaving a hole in  my life forever. He was 31 years old and left behind a young daughter to grow up without a father. Two days ago 20 innocent young children were gunned down. I cannot comprehend the pain of those families. All this seemed to tear the scab off of my memory and the pain is closer to the surface this year. It tends to temper the joy of Christmas a little. Nothing is permanent; nothing is forever. All life is transitory. I'm looking forward to seeing my daughter next week.



I like this song more than most Christmas music. It captures that sad longing, poignant happiness that the season can be. Have a good holiday.

2 comments:

Margadant said...

Well said - well remembered.

Enjoy Addy. Our lot starts flying in tomorrow.

Gunnar Berg said...

Wish them all well. They are all special. Best to Brenda too. Saint Brenda.