Hey, this is Little Foot’s mummy, and this is written to my dad, Little Foot’s grandfather.
On Christmas Day, I gave my Dad four pairs of socks.
If I am not wrong, this is the first time in my life I had a Christmas present for him (our family is not Christian, and I am the lone Catholic convert in my family).
I didn’t add a note to the gift package, just “Merry Christmas!” Written on the wrapper and signing off with my name and Little Foot’s. And he received it amidst the mayhem of our family gathering.
The point is, when I finally had time to sit down and pause for awhile, I regretted not writing a proper note.
So here goes…
Hope you like the socks. They aren’t the most sexy or expensive things to buy, but I know you need them, and I tried to choose the colours you used to wear.
Since the diabetic diagnosis, and having been there with you on a few of your check-ups, it finally dawned on me that the years have caught up with you and Mummy.
I see the lines on your face, the shuffles of your feet getting more obvious, and I see you slouched over, dozing off while we wait. And I felt heavy-hearted. Mummy too, looks washed out.
“Where had all the years gone?” I wondered… and I have to choke back my emotions.
We never had many deep conversations, in fact we hardly talked. Over the years, sometimes I did wonder if we could have had a better relationship … I guess we just took for granted that you will always be you, polishing your beloved cars and watches, letting the TV watch you sleep, eating your favourite things like canned fruits and drinking teh-O…
That you suddenly didn’t look so good, and suddenly was diagnosed with diabetes, it was a wake up call for us.
The doctors have talked quite a bit about adjusting to things, taking better care of yourself – diet, exercise, hygiene etc.
And you needed to start wearing shoes and socks for better footcare.
Hence I bought you socks.
I hope that with baby steps, we can all help you adjust to the new way of life, make it a sustainable lifestyle and one that isn’t so dreadful to bear.
Children forgive their parents always, and whatever inadequacies or absenteeism from our growing up life is really already water under the bridge.
End of the day, deep down, we just care.
And so, with four pairs of socks, I just wanted to tell you, we care, and we want to see you continue to enjoy the life and routine you always had, with a little bit of extra effort.
I hope you wear them and know you are loved by your children and grandchildren.
And I wish you many many more Christmases spent with us.