The First Christmas Without You

It was Cambay Lane. 

That was my home ... for as long as I can remember. 

My father purchased the house on this new tract in Huntington Beach in 1959. He didn't even plan to buy property; he wasn't in the market. But some visiting friends convinced him to take a trip from his apartment in Redondo to tour around. He tagged along just for the heck of it. 

From there, he would be the only one who made the leap, one of the original home owners on this block. It was here that he lived - raising a family with a wife Patricia and their three children: Mary Lynn, Jimmy, Kathy. It was here that the Ellises really took root. It was here where I would be raised, along with my sisters. It was here that I would co-create memories to last a lifetime. 

And it was here that my mom would pass in 2014 and here where my father would spend his final days, departing March 15, 2021.

All those years, all that time, all the holidays, all those Thanksgiving dinners, first in the dining room, then spreading out to the living room once the spouses and extended family and nephews and nieces came along. 

For as long as I can remember, this was the epicenter for family. Though I would move to San Diego in 1990, the same year Kathy married Norman and moved out, this was still where the heart was. This was where the memories were created and where they still reside:

• The basketball backboard and games of "H-O-R-S-E"
• The tennis ball against the garage door with the slats, making the rebound ricochet away
• The Saturday nights in the living room with Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart and Carol Burnett 
• The lunch meals of Campbell's soup as Kathy and I sat on the floor, with General Hospital on in the background 
• The trackball sessions down the hallway
• The pickle, red-light-green-light and hide-and-seek games out front on the lawn with the Ewalds, the Lappins, the Utslers, the Meads and of course my best friend Jamie Jordan
• The Christmas tree all lit up, with the TV - for once - being turned off
• That silence, that sweet silence with the only sound a fireplace crackling and the warm hum of family connection

So many memories. Way too many to count. 

And so much love. Way too big to comprehend.

And, finally, so much loss, when time and space calls for an end. 

For this will be the first Christmas without you. 

Without you Dad, as you chose to move on to that other home known in antiquity through angelic hosts on high. Without you Kathy and Norman, as you moved yourselves to Indiana shortly after Dad passed. Without you niece Grace and husband Cody plus Abigail, as you moved away as well. Without you nephew Emmett, and wife Amy plus Elijah and Hannah, taking a new home and state too. Without you Tess, wherever you may be, in your endeavor to be free. And without you Jamie Jordan, who tragically and suddently departed as well, on into the mysterious unknown.

This year saw many losses - not only my father's passing, but the remainder of my family moving out east. 

This will be the first holiday without these family members right here in living color, in person, right here in physical presence, enjoyed by my wife and myself in our trips to Orange County. 

Even the home on Cambay Lane sold in August. After 59 years, it now belongs to another family, with a couple of young children, ready to create memories of their own, with their own games on that lawn, and their own best friends they may treasure as time moves along. 

Sure, my extended family will have our Zoom meetings, waving hello with the obligatory "how are yous." We will have emails and texts and gifts sent through the mail. 

And that will be fine for now.

But the loss is real, and it will be something I will need to feel. And express, in my own way. 

And the best thing of all - we will have our memories. The echos of children laughing and playing outside, the glow of the TV reruns with a family laughing out loud, enjoying each other's company, the meals shared as a Christmas tree glimmered its gold, frankincense and myrrh. 

On some level, it will always be our Cambay Lane. 

I will embrace the beauty and wonder of a love, as much magical and it is undefinable.

It will there ... in a sacred place ... for as long as I can remember. 

Circa 1998, the Ellis, Kellogg and Slusher collection 

(Photo by Norm; Camera shy Michael)