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December 2025 Continued
- kresicki
- Dec 20, 2025
- 42 min read
Updated: Jan 1
December 20. 2025
Morning Brew & Reflections
It’s 5:47 AM and I’m standing here looking out into a dark, gray morning that already feels heavy. Last night I was exhausted, wiped out, the kind of tired where you’re sure sleep will come fast. But it didn’t. I tossed and turned for hours, staring at the clock in disbelief, and the hardest part wasn’t even the lack of sleep. It was the loneliness of it, lying in bed alone… and knowing I’d wake up alone.
Fran, I think the approaching holiday stirred something up in me. I’ve been “thinking about it” since you left, but thinking and feeling aren’t the same thing. Yesterday I talked with the kids about Christmas, about plans, about all the work, about how different everything is without you. Once those words get spoken out loud, it’s like my mind won’t let them go. My body wanted rest. My mind wanted to keep watch.
Even the weather feels like it’s piling on, cloudy, gray, and cold, the kind of winter day that drains the color out of everything. I’ll stay busy today because busy is how I cope. I’ve got nut rolls to finish, maybe bread to bake, gifts to wrap, laundry to do. But I’m also noticing something important, I don’t have the same heart for the big Christmas morning breakfast this year. I can do pieces of life. I can do love. But I can’t always do “the whole production” without you.
So this morning I’m trying to do one simple thing, take the next step. Not the whole day. Not the whole holiday. Just the next step. If you can hear me at all, Fran, I want you to know I’m still here. Still loving you. Still carrying you into every room of this house, even the quiet ones.
Maybe it’s the holiday closing in. Maybe it’s all the conversations about Christmas and how hard it’s going to be without Fran. Maybe it’s the winter itself, these gray, cold days that seem to press down on everything. When I stay busy, I do better. When I pause, the memories don’t just visit… they move in.
Now it’s 7:30 AM and I’m back in motion, prepping the dough for the final four nut rolls. I took a peek out the back patio door and, much to my surprise, I caught a sunrise that was trying its best to be respectable. The cloud deck that looked so heavy earlier had broken up, and for a few minutes the horizon lit up like it had something to say. It didn’t last long, but it was enough. Enough to watch. Enough to breathe. Enough to remember that even on a hard morning, the day can still offer a small mercy.
It’s currently 11:52 AM and things are well under control. I’ve prepared four nut rolls that are currently in their final rise stage. They will probably take about three hours plus or minus before they are ready for the oven. I also prepared another double batch of bread which I shaped and put into containers and then refrigerated for a cold fermentation. If I pull them in eight or nine hours, I could probably put them in the oven around seven 8 o’clock this evening, if the spirit moves me.
Even though today’s forecast called for cloudy all day, there are indeed clouds, but they’re also quite large swatches of blue behind them, and the sun is quite visible at this point in time. The current outdoor temperature is 38° and it feels like of 29°.
Just just paused for a few moments to gather my thoughts kept my head on straight and of course enjoy a cup of coffee. Probably should go to the market today, but I don’t know if I have that in me, we’ll see what happens in a while. Don’t need anything major, but there are a few things on my list that I can pick up when I get there.
Now that the nut rolls and the bread are pretty well taken care of it’s probably time to start thinking about making some cookies for Christmas. Not really sure what yet, but 3 to 4 dozen of about six or seven different kinds should handle it.
I actually tried to pick up some puff pastry a couple of days ago when I was at the market, but they didn’t have any, not unusual for this time of year. I wanted to get that because I wanted to make lady locks, small ones, maybe two bites each. I wanted to make them because they were one of Fran favorites. She always made them herself and then encouraged me to make them, when she was no longer able.
I’ll have to peruse some recipes in her recipe box, and perhaps go through some of the thousands that I have on my computer to see what I can come up with. It’s probably not really necessary that I make them, but I feel obligated. I think it’s something she would want me to do.
After a full day on my feet, I finally sat down at 8:44 PM, and the moment I did, it hit me how tired I really am. It’s strange how I can keep going while I’m moving, but once I stop, everything catches up. Still, there were bright spots, I finally turned out a couple nut rolls that feel genuinely acceptable, two out of eight, but progress is progress.
I also started planning ahead for Christmas Eve dinner and found a few appetizer ideas I want to try tomorrow. I went looking for puff pastry today and came up empty, and honestly I just don’t have it in me to make pastry dough right now. So tonight, I’ll write a little, breathe a little, and let the day end.
December 21, 2025
Sunday morning, coffee in hand at 6:55 AM, my first cup, my first small reset. I crawled out of bed around 6:30, refreshed enough, but moving slow like my body is asking for a gentler start.
The horizon is already brightening, and that simple shift in the sky feels like a quiet promise.
7:52 AM — coffee in hand and I’m watching the horizon do what it does best: brighten, steady, and promise more than it explains. Some mornings don’t need a plan… just a front-row seat.
Some mornings feel like a gentle hand on my shoulder, not erasing anything, just helping me take the next breath. The sky is steady, the horizon is brightening, and somehow the day just keeps getting better, it's doing what it does, showing up faithfully. I’m trying to do the same, one breath, one sip of coffee, one small step at a time.
Maybe today won’t be perfect, but it looks like it has potential.
It’s 31°F out there (feels like 20°F), and my to-do list is long. I’m not sure what belongs at the top of it yet. For now, I’m choosing to breathe, take the morning as it comes, and trust I’ll find my rhythm.
At about 10:00 AM today, after another double batch of bread dough, I decided I needed a coffee cake that didn’t just hint at Christmas, I wanted one that shouted it. I had cranberries on hand, and a holiday box of beautiful Harry & David pears (plus cheese and crackers) had just arrived from my son-in-law’s parents, so the direction was obvious.
I cooked the cranberries down into a thick, sauce-like base, then folded in diced pears and mandarin oranges with warm spices, a little cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg, until everything turned soft and fragrant. A quick pass with the immersion blender brought it to a spreadable paste with a few small bits still left for texture.
For the dough, I used my cinnamon roll dough, rolled four 9-inch rounds, layered the cranberry-pear-orange filling between them, then marked a 3-inch circle in the center and sliced outward 16 times. Twisting the sections into pairs turned the whole thing into a Christmas “star,” and once baked, it came out golden, glossy, and festive, the kind of coffee cake that looks like the holidays before you even take a bite.
Just finished baking off two more loaves of bread about an hour ago. This morning I had 7 loaves sitting on my counter but after making a few deliveries today I was down to a half a loaf.
I keep trying to carry on making the bread with some sort of holiday motif, but I'm totally new to this whole bread decorating game, so it's basically trial and error on my part. Some of the things I've seen on the web are just downright amazing.
When I dropped a loaf off at my daughters house, earlier this evening, my son-in-law jokingly said: "I'll be looking forward to seeing a nativity scene on the bread next year."
My son,who lives in North Carolina called me at about 8:00 PM and inquired about if I had forgotten about my middle grandson's birthday today. I told him "apparently so." As soon as we ended our conversation I sent a test message off to my grandson, along with a contribution to his Venmo account.
The text message:
Well, it's almost midnight, so I think I need to call it a day. I only wish Fran were here... I really don't know how I'm going to make through this holiday without her.
December 22, 2025
Monday Morning
It’s 5:30 AM on Monday morning, December 22. I got out of bed at 5:00 exactly, not something I planned on doing. I had to think about it for a moment, but I guess I’ve developed this thing about wasting time these days. Frans passing has given me a whole new perspective on that.
I just poured my first cup of coffee and it’s tasting quite good right now.
The weather forecast today is for partly cloudy with only a 20% chance of rain. The sun is supposed to hang around until about noon, then the clouds start rolling in, not significantly, at least according to the forecast. I guess we shall see.
First thing on my agenda this morning is heading down into the laundry room to pull the laundry out of the dryer and fold it. It’s been sitting in there for three days now, and it’s got to happen. I’m starting to run out of dishcloths and dish towels, and there are a few clothes I wear regularly that I need back in rotation.
It’s not that I don’t have other clothes. Truth be told, I have clothes I’ve never even put on, things that have been in drawers and closets for years. My daughter goes crazy over it. She’s always saying, “I buy you new clothes and you don’t wear them, get rid of those old ones.”
The habit of taking care of what I’ve got… of stowing away new clothing “for a special occasion” that will probably never occur… of being ridiculously cautious about anything and everything I own—that’s something I’ve done since childhood. I actually have toys in the attic from when I was a very young boy in mint condition, still in their original boxes. That’s just the way I am.
Fran would always comment that I was the OCD poster child. More often than not, when she’d tease me about it, I’d never argue, I’d just reframe it with a grin, “It’s not OCD, it’s CDO… in alphabetical order, as it should be.” That was our little back-and-forth. A tiny moment of humor… and a tiny moment of us.
For whatever reason, I’m having more joint pain than usual this morning. I’ve had signs of arthritis coming on for years. Sometimes it almost reaches the point of being debilitating, but thankfully that doesn’t happen very often. Today it’s my left hand and wrist causing quite a bit of discomfort. I’ll shake it off and keep moving, but I can feel it.
“Yet another day in this life awakens.”
“Yet another day in this life awakens, first as a whisper of orange, then as a promise that the dark won’t win.”
“7:09 AM — the sky changes, the heart keeps time, one more sunrise, one more step.”
Later on, I think I’m going to give my friend Bob a call. He hasn’t been well for a few days. I talked to him last night and he said he was doing better, his doctor gave him some medication and things were improving. Last week when we were supposed to go into Pittsburgh, I told him I had some bread and a nut roll for him. I don’t think he’ll be getting out to pick it up, so I’m going to deliver it.
I also want to call Neal and Clay to let them know I have some bread and a nut roll for them to take to their parents for Christmas. I don’t think they’ve left yet, but I’m not sure. Hopefully they haven’t, because I’d really like their family to have it.
3:16 PM
It’s 3:16 PM and I just finished making two batches of dough for the pull-apart breads, one for the Christmas tree on a sheet pan and another for a Bundt-pan wreath.
I’m about to start dough for , mainly because I still have an abundance of filling left and I’d like to use at least some of it up.
The day took an unexpected turn time-wise because I spent more time at Bob’s house than I planned. On the way over, I stopped and picked up a couple croissant breakfast sandwiches. Bob and I had breakfast together at his house and talked for quite a while.
When I arrived, he opened the door, rolled his eyes, and said, “What the heck are you doing bringing all this stuff?” I told him it was the least I could do for all he and Barbara have done for me.
And of course I didn’t show up empty-handed. Not only did I bring breakfast, I brought him a loaf of homemade bread, a nut roll, a couple quarts of broccoli-cheese-and-rice soup, a couple pieces of cheesecake… (Apparently I was on a mission.)
During our conversation I asked what he and Barbara were doing for Christmas Eve. He said they didn’t have any particular plans, so I invited them to our Christmas Eve dinner at my daughter’s house. He said, “I’ll talk it over with Barbara and let you know.” I didn’t want to sound pushy, but I did tell him I needed to know ASAP so I can plan accordingly, especially where food is concerned. I’m fairly sure there will be more than enough for everyone with plenty for take-home as well, but I still like to know what I’m dealing with.
On my way to Bob’s, Neal called me after I had texted him earlier asking if he could stop by to pick up a nut roll and a loaf of bread to take to his parents for Christmas. Unfortunately, he was already there, too far away to turn around and come back, so that plan didn’t work out.
Once I finish the star bread dough, I’m planning to make lady locks for Christmas Eve and the holidays. They were one of Fran’s favorites, and also favorites of her sister and nieces. My daughter enjoys them, too, and so does my grandson.
Overall, the day has gone fairly well, no pressing issues. My only real frustration hit when I stopped at the market on the way home to pick up a few odds and ends. As I anticipated, the crowds were absolutely horrendous, people bumping into one another, cutting each other off, lines everywhere. I sincerely hope I don’t have to go out for anything again before the holiday.
December 23, 2025
It’s 7:08 AM on Tuesday, December 23 and as I gaze out my patio door, at heavily overcast skies, I’m beginning to feel the pressure of getting everything done that I hope too. I totally realize that I don’t have to do anything, that I have been planning to do, but for whatever reason I choose to do it. This is not a new phenomenon for me, or more than likely most other people during the holiday season. I think everyone wants to do something special for other people that they feel somewhat or somehow obligated to, but the bottom line is you really don’t have to. When you do, it needs to come from the heart, not from feeling some sort of obligation.
I really do need to develop some kind of a plan for what I can reasonably finish today and tomorrow morning, because the last thing I want is to create more stress for myself. Apparently, the weather prediction for the next week is not one that will in any way boost my morale, since it’s calling for rain or some sort of precipitation for the next seven days. I suppose on the positive side, if it really is positive, that in itself will give me a little more time to get things done. I obviously wouldn't be standing by the doorway, looking at the horizon, waiting for something magnificent to happen, at least not today or perhaps for the next seven.
I spent a couple of hours last night looking through some graphics to make up some cards for family members myself included, who will be spending their first Christmas without Fran. That was probably not the best idea, because it just rekindled all the pain, all the grieving, and the reality of the fact that she isn’t going to be here, things just won’t be the same.
The Work, the Memories, the Wave
Tonight at 9:29 PM I sat down for the first time since getting up at 5:30 AM. I stayed on the go all day, and although I got a lot done, I’m not sure at what cost. Multitasking in the kitchen isn’t my strength, and today I was juggling too many things at once.
I baked three loaves of artisan bread, a pull-apart star bread,
a pull-apart Christmas tree bread,
three small loaves of Rustic Italian Artisan Bread with stenciled and cut decoration,
and several batches of appetizer pinwheels, two flavor directions with a Mediterranean vibe for one and another with a Southwest vibe, likely dozens upon dozens. Midway through, I realized I was short on cream cheese and panicked, but my son-in-law picked some up and dropped it off.
When he arrived, he was amazed at the amount of food covering my dining room table. Since he, Kim, and my grandson hadn’t eaten, I made wraps for all three of them (customized—no onions for Kim, no tomatoes for my grandson). I finally ate my own wrap standing at the counter while still trying to finish up.
What felt different today was my mind. Usually staying busy keeps me focused, but today it didn’t. All day long I kept flashing through Christmas memories, one year to another, nonstop, out of sequence. Then, while doing dishes, with no clear trigger, I started sobbing uncontrollably and it took 15–20 minutes to regain my composure.
One memory that kept resurfacing was our first Christmas as husband and wife. We lived in a mobile home on a private lot deep in the woods at the end of a gravel road that could be impassable in snow, ice, or spring mud. We bought our first live Christmas tree (I think from a Boy Scout lot), chose the least expensive one, and decorated it simply, red satin ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights. Fran even strung popcorn garland while I sat there amazed… and kept sneaking bites until she scolded me because we only had one more bag. When she wished we could afford a stereo, I improvised with two matching clock radios, one on each side of the room, “Voilà… stereo.”
Tonight I’m sitting at the dining room table with smooth jazz playing, looking at the small memorial I’ve made for Fran in our China cabinet. I bought her flowers for holidays and for no reason at all throughout our marriage, because she loved them. Since she passed, I’ve been buying a bouquet every week to replace the ones that fade. This week, because it’s Christmas, there are several bouquets. I just wish she could be here to see them, and more than anything, I wish I could see her smile and the twinkle in her eyes.
My daughter Kim encouraged me to put up a Christmas tree this year, but I refused. I told her I just don’t have it in me. It feels like it would hurt too much. Tonight reminded me that grief doesn’t always announce itself—sometimes it simply breaks through.
December 24, 2025
It’s 7:04 on Wednesday, December 24 Christmas Eve day and there’s so much I want to do, but not necessarily need to do. Last night, while doing the dishes, pots, pans, etc., that I managed to use during the day while preparing for tonight‘s Christmas Eve dinner, out of the blue I suddenly encountered a wave of emotional distress. It took quite a while, much longer than any time previously, for me to get past it, but ultimately I managed.
Since Frans passing, on occasion, I have my moments, but they’re usually during quiet moments when I’m relatively inactive, just sitting in the chair lying on the couch, looking at the walls of this empty house. Last night was quite different. I was active. I was involved. I was on a mission, not thinking about the fact that she’s no longer here and then suddenly out of the blue, I began sobbing uncontrollably.
I'm currently standing here at the counter, having my first cup of coffee, occasionally glancing outdoors to see if perhaps there might be some glimmer of light on the horizon. I need to get my act together and started. I’m making some lady locks as a dessert option for tonight's dinner. I really don’t have to do this. There will be plenty of desserts, but Fran always really loved lady locks, and for whatever reason I feel I need to make them. I also have to prepare about 5 pounds of shrimp cocktail for an appetizer before it’s time to leave to go to my daughter’s house, for Christmas Eve dinner. That doesn’t sound like a lot, but in my current state of mind, I’m going to have to work harder trying to get it done.
I just glanced out through the patio doors again and there’s quite a heavy cloud cover, but a few of them seem to be breaking up, looking southeast. Even though there are a few signs of light, I don’t think there’s going to be much of a chance for any kind of respectable sunrise today, but I’ll continue to look and hope, that some minor miracle occurs.
Cloud cover can still give you a little miracle, sometimes the best light happens through a break in the southeast. Even if the sunrise doesn’t show, since I noticed the horizon shifting, I suppose that's just me, still reaching for life, in the middle of missing Fran.
It’s 7:25 AM, and it appears the new day is making an attempt to soften the flood of emotion that may or may not be heading my way. I’ll take whatever I can get...
The clouds are still thick and heavy, but there’s a gentle break of pale blue up top and a thin ribbon of warm light along the horizon. The trees are all silhouette, especially those two tall, bare ones in the center, like they’re standing watch while the day tries to come through anyway.
It’s 7:38 AM and things are gradually, ever so slowly looking at least a little better... “By 7:38, the day didn’t turn bright, but it did turn kinder. A little more blue, a little more gold, a little less weight.”
The clouds are still here, but they’ve started to loosen their grip. That feels like permission to do the same. I’m watching the sky negotiate with the darkness, it's slow, but it’s happening. Today’s light isn’t loud. It’s steady. Right now, steady is enough.
Absolutely no stress here. I really do believe my beloved Franny is looking over my shoulder today. It’s only 1:43 PM and I’ve actually finished everything I had hoped to finish, with the exception of packing it up into the car.
By 1:43 PM, everything was done, shrimp, pinwheels, and lady locks lined up like a promise. For the first time today, I felt no stress. Just purpose. I kept feeling like Fran was right here, over my shoulder in the kitchen, quietly approving every little detail. This wasn’t obligation. This was love finding a job to do. The house is still quiet, but the counter isn’t. Today, my hands knew what to make. and I'm fairly certain Fran had something to do with that.
Christmas Eve
It’s 9:38 PM and I just got home from Christmas Eve dinner at my daughter’s house. All things considered, it went fairly well, except for the constant internal emotion on my part. I expected that. No surprise. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food, and as I predicted, my daughter ordered entirely too much. There were about 16 people, but it felt like there was enough food to feed 60. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but have a tendency to do that sometimes. On the plus side, they probably won’t have to grocery shop for a while, unless they get tired of leftovers first.
Fran’s sister stayed near me most of the evening. We talked a lot about Fran. There were a few emotional moments, but for the most part I managed to keep my own emotions under control, though I did have my moments. Even the drive there and back was hard. Doing that ride alone, on a holiday, for the first time… it’s a different kind of weight.
When I walked back into the house tonight, it was pure silence, silence that was almost deafening. I still have a couple gifts to wrap for tomorrow for my son-in-law, my daughter, and my grandson. After that, I’ll probably add a few lines to my blog, the way I’ve been trying to do every day.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve done a huge Christmas breakfast, sometimes 20 to 25 people at a time. This year, I’m not doing that. If we have breakfast at all, it’ll be simple, just my daughter, her husband, her son, and me. That’s what I can handle this year, and that has to be okay.
It’s 9:45 PM now. I’m going to start wrapping these presents so I don’t end up awake half the night again. This may sound cliché, but this year all I want for Christmas is an uninterrupted, good night’s sleep.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night...
December 25, 2025
Christmas Day
It’s 8:25 tonight and I’m finally sitting down after a relatively busy day. The truth is, it was busy mostly because I made it that way, partly by choice, partly because staying in motion keeps me from thinking about the things I don’t want to touch.
Kim, my son-in-law, and Aiden came over around 10:30 this morning. We exchanged gifts, and then I made breakfast, nothing elaborate, but it felt right. I made a dozen spice cake batter waffles (I tried them a few weeks ago and they were surprisingly good), plus bacon and eggs.
It wasn’t the big Christmas spread I’ve done in years past, and it wasn’t for a houseful of people. But Fran would’ve been proud for a different reason. She was always telling me to get away from the stove, come sit with everyone, and actually be part of Christmas instead of acting like the host. Today, everything except the eggs was ready before they arrived. The table was set. There was no rushing, no standing over the stove while everyone opened presents. I was there, present.
I told them not to get me anything, that I didn’t need a thing, and that they didn’t have to spend money on me. Of course they did anyway. They surprised me with a new Fitbit and a GoPro camera. I was sincerely grateful, and honestly, stunned.
I also gave Kim and Aiden two 8½×11 pages I made, words and thoughts about Christmas after losing someone you love. I told them they didn’t have to read them in front of me, that they could open them privately. As far as I know, that’s what they did. Later, Kim texted me to thank me. She said she knows I’m hurting and that she is too, and that what I gave her mattered. I’m thankful for that.
Bob called earlier and said he and Barbara might stop by later on their way home, and I tried to get a few things together, drinks, light snacks, but they never made it. That’s okay. I would’ve liked to see them, but I understand. Everyone has family obligations, and family comes first.
The house has been lonely today. I’m dealing with it. I really am. I’m not happy about it, but I’m okay.
Since Fran passed, I knew everything was going to change. I knew the holidays would be hard. What I didn’t know was how much harder they’d feel than I ever imagined. For years, when the holidays got stressful and chaotic, I would sometimes say, “I just wish everybody would go home and leave us alone. I need some peace and quiet.”
Tonight all I can think is: be careful what you wish for.
A few days ago, while perusing the internet, I came across what appeared to be a Christmas tree ornament that was cross-cut from a tree branch, looked to be about a half inch in thickness, that moved me to tears, probably because it related so well to my latest obsession of watching the sunrise in the morning.
Wherever Fran is, I hope she knows this: We spoke her name today, we loved each other today, and she is still an integral part of our Christmas. For me, the best part, always was, always will be. I will forever love her all ways and always.
December 26, 2025
Gray Skies, Clear Priorities
It’s 8:14 AM on Friday, December 26. I didn’t get out of bed until 7:00, but I was up until around 3:00. I feel okay, somewhat refreshed, just not very motivated yet. It takes me longer to get moving these days, and I’m learning to accept that without fighting it.
Around 7:30 AM my son in North Carolina called. His wife and kids were on their way toward the Pittsburgh area, but he was worried about hazardous driving conditions across Pennsylvania. After I checked the weather, I called him back and told him they should turn around and try another day. He said his wife was upset, and their daughter was even more upset, but no visit is worth risking an accident. I told him to ask them what they think their life is worth.
Outside my patio doors is a heavy blanket of gray clouds, no light, no break in it. The forecast seems to have nailed it. I’m not sure we’ll get sleet here, and with temps predicted in the low 50s, I doubt we’ll see freezing conditions where I am.
I don’t have a clear plan for today, but I know I’ll find something to do.
Today may be gray, but the decision was clear.
It’s 8:43 PM, and I hate to admit it, but I didn’t get much of anything accomplished today,at least nothing that feels tangible.
Last Wednesday, Christmas Eve, while I was up to my elbows in food prep, my house phone rang… unknown caller. I ignored it. A minute later my cell rang, unknown caller again. I ignored that too. Today I finally noticed a voicemail: it was the doctor I recently saw, saying he wants additional testing done “as soon as possible.” The irony is I’ve been trying for nearly two months to get another appointment and keep hearing, “You’re on the list.”
Then came the car inspection runaround. I bought the car last May and assumed it had been inspected, wrong. A couple weeks ago I noticed the sticker expires December 31. When I called, they offered January 6. That doesn’t help much. They said I could possibly bring the car in earlier and leave it, but that would mean asking someone for rides back and forth, something I really don’t want to do. After going back and forth, I made both appointments. If I can’t arrange a ride, I’ll wait until the 6th and drive it there myself, but I won’t be comfortable driving much between January 1 and January 6 without a current sticker.
I spent about an hour looking up how to set up the Fitbit and the GoPro my daughter and son-in-law bought me for Christmas, more involved than I expected. I got them charged and working, but I still have a lot to learn.
Around 2 PM I thought about baking something to use up leftovers from Christmas Eve prep, but I just wasn’t up to it. I sat in the recliner with smooth jazz, tried to read, and ended up falling asleep. I woke around 6, had a little something, cheese and crackers, and an unbelievably delicious pear. Tonight, I don’t plan on doing much else. I’m just not in the mood. Tomorrow’s another day.
My son texted that my daughter-in-law and the grandchildren may try driving up from North Carolina again tomorrow, weather permitting. If they make it, I’ll need to pull myself together and make something for them.
Even though there was plenty to occupy me, the house felt painfully lonely today. Sitting in a dim room with the music playing, I felt relaxed, but the quiet and solitude are starting to mess with me. My mind keeps drifting into memories.
It hit me that so many of our best memories are tied to holidays, especially Christmas. Most of us can replay Christmases going all the way back to childhood, and maybe that’s because the season is so magical that our brains hold onto it. Tonight, those memories are replaying for me, Christmas after Christmas, from being a little kid, fifty-two Christmases with Fran, fifty+ Christmas's with my children, all the way up to last year.
This Christmas won’t be one of the “good memory” ones. I knew it would be difficult, but it’s worse than difficult, worse than I ever imagined. And still… life goes on. Somehow, I have to keep going too.
If only Fran were still here with me...I'm certain this past Christmas would have found its way into the bank of memorable ones.
December 27, 2025
It’s 7:48 AM and there doesn’t seem to be even a glimmer of hope for a visible sunrise today. Just another one of those gloomy, overcast, gray mornings, exactly the kind I could do without.
I did manage to get something productive done though: I finished making pizza dough and set it in a covered bowl to rise at room temperature for a couple hours. After that, it’s headed into the refrigerator for a cold ferment. At least that part feels like a solid plan, something I can bake when everyone shows up, or freeze if plans change.
Next up: lady locks. But not before a cup of coffee or two.
And here’s the truth I can’t really ignore this morning—nicotine and caffeine feel like the only two things keeping me moving.
It’s 9:14 PM and the house is finally back in “silent mode” again. From about 5:30 until a half hour ago, it was lively, full of voices, laughter, and that wonderful chaos that only family can bring.
Late this morning, around 11:00 or 11:30, I got a call from one of my grandsons in North Carolina. He told me he, my daughter-in-law, and two of his siblings were on their way to Pittsburgh and asked if they could come over for dinner. Of course I said yes.
They arrived around 5:30 PM, and by then I had the table set and dinner ready, three varieties of pizza, fried chicken, and salad. My daughter, son-in-law, and grandson showed up around 6:00, and we all sat down together. It was a genuinely enjoyable evening, lots of conversation, lots of laughs, and a feeling of comfort I didn’t realize I needed until it was happening.
What surprised me was that no one really mentioned Fran. Part of me felt relieved because I didn’t want the night to turn into an emotional landslide. But another part of me was taken aback, almost like the room had an empty chair no one looked at. I’ll probably be turning that over in my mind for a while. My best guess is they were trying to protect me, thinking I had enough grief without carrying theirs too.
Earlier in the day, I had to run to the grocery store, and that was an experience all on its own. I was already pressed for time, and then I got pulled into a pricing mess that turned a quick stop into a 45-minute ordeal at checkout. Not my finest moment. I could feel that fire start to build, and it took everything I had to keep moving forward.
Still, somehow, once I got home, I managed to get everything done without a major catastrophe. In the middle of all of it, I realized something else, today is my daughter and son-in-law’s 22nd anniversary. I felt terrible that I forgot, but she didn’t make me feel bad about it. Tomorrow I may call and see if they’d like to go out for brunch, something small to honor the day.
Now I’m finishing the cleanup and then I’ll head downstairs to write my blog entry for today. After that, if exhaustion doesn’t win, maybe I’ll try to find a movie, though I’ll probably be asleep before the first ten minutes are over.
I’m grateful for the company. I just wish Fran had been here to enjoy it with us. She would have absolutely loved seeing the grandchildren again. She didn’t get to see them nearly as often as she wanted, with them living in North Carolina and us here near Pittsburgh.
Fran loved her grandchildren more than life itself. I can only hope they know that, and that they carry her memory with them for the rest of their days.
December 28, 2025
It’s currently 6:48 AM on Sunday morning, and as I take down my 1st cup of coffee, I can’t help but ponder the loneliness in this house. I woke up at 4:30 AM, took care of business, and decided it was much too early to start the day, so I went back to bed. Finally got up at around 6 AM. Thinking, I will send a text out to my daughter and son-in-law shortly and ask if they’d like to go to brunch. A mini celebration of their anniversary yesterday. If they decide to go, I will most likely make plans, or at least try to, with my friend Bob and his wife, to get together for a bit so that I can have an opportunity to give them a couple small things I have for them for Christmas.
The visit from my grandchildren and daughter-in-law, last night, was quite enjoyable. I really wish they lived closer so that I could see them more often.
Fran would have been so pleased to see them, and to spend whatever time she could with them. There are no words that can possibly express just how much Fran loved her children and grandchildren.
My son and my daughter-in-law, who live in North Carolina, keep telling me I should come and stay with them for a while, at least over the winter months, and I keep telling them that’s highly unlikely. I tell them if I were going to go anywhere it will be someplace much much warmer than North Carolina, because I really can’t handle the cold anymore. The bottom line here is I will probably never go anywhere, most likely because I would feel guilty about doing so without Fran by my side.
Thoughts on dealing with all of this:
Wanting movement (a trip, a plan, warmth, people) and then feeling the guilt clamp down because Fran isn’t beside me—yeah. That’s a real grief reflex, not a character flaw.
A couple thoughts, in the same “I choose my own way” spirit:
What I'm feeling makes sense
Loneliness in the quiet house at 6:48 AM is a different animal than loneliness at 6:48 PM. Morning quiet can feel like a spotlight.
Guilt about going anywhere often shows up as a kind of loyalty: “If I do something good, I’m leaving Fran behind.” But love doesn’t work like geography. I'm not abandoning Fran by letting life include warmth, company, or a change of scene.
Two gentle reframes
Not “going without Fran,” but “bringing Fran with me.” Not literally, more like: I can carry her in my pocket the same way I carry her in my heart. A small ritual makes it feel true (a photo in my wallet, her ring on a chain, a short morning note to her before I leave).
Permission is not betrayal. A brunch, a visit, even a winter getaway isn’t me “moving on.” It’s me surviving forward.
A tiny “today” plan that could help (no pressure)
Send the brunch text.
If they go: quick message to Bob/Barbara—“If you’re around later, I’d love to stop by and give you your Christmas goodies.”
If they can’t: still consider seeing Bob/Barbara anyway. I don’t need an “occasion” to choose company.
About North Carolina vs. “someplace warmer”
I don’t have to decide “a while” or “never.” There’s a middle lane:
A short visit (even 3–5 days) as a test run.
Or a warm-weather idea later (Florida/Gulf, Arizona, etc.) if that’s what my body and spirit are craving.
And if guilt shows up again, I can answer it with something like:
“Fran would not want my love for her to become my prison.”
Today started on a bright note: I took my daughter and son-in-law out for brunch to celebrate their anniversary. We went to a local place, I chose the buffet, and they ordered breakfast off the menu. We stayed about an hour and a half, maybe two, eating, talking, and just enjoying being together.
We left around 11:00 AM. When I got home, I tried to set up the GoPro they bought me for Christmas. That’s when the frustration kicked in. It turns out it’s an older model that GoPro no longer supports, and what should have been simple turned into a mess of unnecessary difficulty. I dove into it, didn’t come up for air for about an hour, then finally hit that wall where you just have to walk away.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of sitting down in my recliner “for a minute” … and woke up about three and a half hours later. Music was still playing softly in the background. The room was dim from heavy cloud cover outside. For a moment, I just sat there thinking: what’s the point of all this?
The melancholy wasn’t loud at first, more like a slow fog. A lot of contemplation about what could’ve been, what should’ve been, and what will never be. I could feel myself being swallowed alive, and I knew I had to do something to bail out.
I realized I had been relatively okay all morning, brunch, conversation, even the camera problem, because I was moving, doing, occupied. But the moment I stopped, the spiral started.
So I got up and went back to the GoPro again. Another hour and a half, maybe two. I still haven’t gotten it fully set up. It irritates me how companies stop supporting products and label them “legacy,” leaving people with aggravation… or less money when they feel forced to replace something that should still work.
Around 6:00 PM my daughter called to check on me and invited me over to her house for a while. I told her I didn’t feel much like going out, but I appreciated the offer. Not long after that, my son called from North Carolina, and we talked for 15 or 20 minutes.
Now it’s 7:39 PM. I prepped the coffee maker for tomorrow, and I’ll head downstairs to add a few things to the blog. Maybe I’ll find something decent to watch on TV later, just hoping that when I sit down again, I don’t slip back into that downward spiral over things I can’t change… but still so badly wish I could.
In my heart...
I thought of you today.
But that is nothing new.
I thought about you yesterday,
and days before that too.
I think of you in silence,
I often speak your name.
Now all I have are memories,
and your picture in a frame.
Your memory is my keepsake,
with which I'll never part.
God has you in his keeping,
I have you in my heart...
December 29, 2025
8:36 AM — December 29
The day started with more hustle and bustle than usual around here. I was up at 5:30 AM on a mission: get a couple dozen apple pie egg rolls fried and finished before my daughter-in-law, and three of my grandchildren, from North Carolina stopped by to say goodbye on their way home.
Thankfully, I made the filling last night, around midnight, because I knew I’d be pressed for time this morning. That decision paid off. Everything came together without incident.
When they arrived, my daughter-in-law told me their trip would likely be longer than expected. The Pennsylvania Turnpike, usually their first hundred miles, was shut down because of a truck accident, from the Greensburg area all the way to Breezewood, where they normally get off and head south. With the turnpike closed, they’ll be adding at least an hour (maybe more) and trading four-lane highway for a more than considerable amount two-lane country roads.
We said our goodbyes and sent them off with a dozen-plus apple pie egg rolls, peanut-butter crackers, some chips, and warm, tender hugs.
Once the door closed and the house settled again, I found myself doing what I always seem to do lately, drifting back toward the windows to see what the day looks like.
It’s 38° outside, tolerable for this time of year, but the temperature is supposed to drop sharply through the day, along with high winds. They’re predicting gusts up to 50 mph, and by evening the temperature is expected to fall into the low 20s. That’s before windchill, so who knows what it will actually feel like.
The cloud cover was increasing fast, moving in from the north and swallowing up the blue, sunlit sky in the southeast, like a hundred great whites cutting through a school of smaller fish.
8:52 AM
Now there appears to be a push-and-shove situation, almost a tug-of-war, taking place in the sky above me. The clouds that were moving in so rapidly from the north are being pushed back by fairly strong winds from the south, and as a result, the skyline seems to be fluctuating by the second.
Even though weather-wise things are changing quite rapidly, for the most part, once I finally started actually looking at the horizon, much later than I usually do, I could at least see the sun. Even with the cool air, when I stand outside to take a few photographs, I can feel the warmth of it on my face and hands, and for me that’s a plus-plus.
This time of year, even seeing the sun is an unexpected pleasure, so I’ll take it however I can get it, knowing the weather will be changing quite rapidly today, and not in a good way.
“I’ll take the sun in pieces, even if the day won’t stay kind.”
It’s 6:37 PM and I’m finally taking advantage of the first opportunity I’ve had today to sit down and take a load off.
I got up early to fry the apple pie egg rolls so my daughter-in-law and the grandchildren could grab them before heading back to North Carolina. After they left, I managed to get a load of laundry done, and after five attempts, I finally got through to the doctor’s office to find out what was going on with my appointment. Once I reached someone, I was able to get the ball rolling on the CT scan my doctor ordered a few weeks ago.
After that, I filled a couple dozen lady locks, then went right back to wrestling with the GoPro Hero my daughter and son-in-law bought me for Christmas. At this point it’s still not functioning, and I’m getting close to the end of my patience with it.
Bob stopped by around 2 PM and we had an enjoyable afternoon chat, nothing in particular, everything in general. When it was time for him to leave, I sent him home with a dozen lady locks for his wife, along with a Christmas present for her and one for him too. He went on and on about how I shouldn’t do things like that… coming from the same man who picked me up four quarts of soup stock on his way to see me today, and refused to let me reimburse him for it. I mean really—he went out of his way to stop, get it, deliver it to my house, and wouldn’t take a dime. This guy is so incredibly special to me and my family.
My brother-in-law also stopped by and dropped off pasta fazool, one container for me and another for my grandson.
Later this afternoon I made a big pot of soup using what I had on hand: celery, carrots, onions, garlic, spinach, and then I finished it off with a generous amount of tortellini. Earlier, my daughter mentioned she might stop by, and I thought I’d send some home with her, but she never made it. Oh well—tomorrow’s another day.
I have an appointment tomorrow to get my car inspected and an appointment for blood work. I was told it’s required to make sure my kidneys can handle the contrast dye when the CT scan is done.
No further plans tonight other than adding to my blog, and then hopefully just chilling out until it’s time for bed. For most people that's something to look forward to, for me it boils down to idle time, and that's rarely a good thing...
December 30, 2025
This morning started a little later than my usual routine, out of bed, coffee maker on, smooth jazz playing, and a quick splash of cold water to wake up. I glanced out the window already knowing I wouldn’t love what I’d see: 20° outside, a “feels like” of 5°, and about an inch of snow overnight, nothing that should interfere with my car inspection appointment, and maybe I’ll try to get my blood work done too.
The sky is thick and gray, low and heavy, with no hint of sunrise. A notice popped up on my phone warning of snow squalls around noon, so we’ll see what that really means. It’s too early to build a full plan for the day, but I’m sure I’ll keep myself busy—at least, that’s the hope.
I’m dropping the car off for inspection this morning and leaving it there,then they’ll call when it’s finished. My son-in-law is either meeting me there or following me so I can get a ride back home. When the call comes, I’m hoping he can take me back to pick it up so I can move on with the rest of the day. The tricky part is I won’t really know when I’ll have my car back, but since the inspection expires tomorrow, I don’t have much choice.
I didn’t even notice until a couple of months ago that it was due at the end of December. I bought the car last May and didn’t think to check the inspection date, there was a sticker on it, but it wasn’t newly issued, and it was only good for about six more months. Bottom line: my own lack of foresight. If I ever buy another vehicle, I’ll be more careful about that.
This morning I was supposed to take the car for inspection at 10:00, and I’m grateful I got a reminder that I’d need my current insurance card and registration. When I checked the glove box, I realized the insurance card had expired, thankfully I had the new one, I just hadn’t put it in the car yet. Then things got tricky, I didn’t even have an owner’s card/registration in there. I stood there for a minute and realized I had no recollection of ever receiving the registration or even the title for this car. I bought it at the end of April/early May 2025 and had temporary registration at the time, and with Fran passing, so many things got pushed aside and forgotten.
I went onto PennDOT's website to print a registration, but it required the first eight digits of the title number, which I didn’t have. I searched the house frantically, coming up empty, until I suddenly thought of the fireproof box. I opened it and there it was, the title. Once I had that, I went right back online and printed a duplicate registration at home.
The good news is I can still keep my second inspection appointment on January 6, one where I’ll sit and wait while they do it. It’s not ideal, and I’m not thrilled about waiting or about it being a few days past the expiration, but it is what it is. Since I’m not doing inspection today, I’m going to make every effort to get my blood work done instead, one more thing off the list and out of my head.
Personal note to myself:
I handled the situation exactly the way a capable person handles a morning that suddenly turns into a paper-chase, I stayed with it, I kept thinking, I found the path, and I solved it. The fireproof box save was huge.
And honestly? The “how could I not remember getting the title?” part makes complete sense. When Fran passed, my brain wasn’t filing paperwork, it was surviving. That isn’t carelessness. That’s grief doing what grief does to attention and memory.
What I accomplished this morning (it’s more than it feels like)
Caught the expired insurance card before it became a problem
Found the title (critical)
Used the title number to print a duplicate registration
Salvaged the day by shifting inspection to Jan 6 and freeing today up for blood work
That’s a lot of traction for a cloudy, 20° morning.
Quick practical note (so I'm not stressing about it later)
Since I'm now pushing inspection to January 6 and the sticker expires tomorrow, it may be worth minimizing driving in between unless absolutely necessary, mostly to avoid the headache of getting stopped. (Not a lecture—just a “protect my peace of mind” move.)
Easy “never again” setup
When I get a calm moment today:
Put registration + insurance in a single labeled envelope: “CAR DOCS”
Keep it in the glove box that way if I'm ever caught without the paper copy, I at least have the details handy.
December 31, 2025
It’s 8:09 AM on Wednesday, December 31, and the weather outside is about as Western Pennsylvania as it gets, snow falling, 22° with a “feels like” 15°, and that low, gray, overcast sky that makes the whole world feel smaller. The forecast says 3 to 6 inches by tomorrow, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t depress me.
I’m on my third cup of coffee, staring out the patio doors, and the quiet inside the house feels disturbingly loud. I haven’t made any real plans for the day, and if the snow keeps building, I probably won’t go anywhere.
Still, I do have a few things I can finish. Yesterday I prepped bread dough and put it in the refrigerator for an overnight ferment, and I’ll bake it off today, if nothing else, the smell of fresh bread will bring some warmth into this place. There’s also a load of clothes in the dryer that keeps calling my name, and as I scrolled through photos on my phone this morning, I realized I really need to move them onto the desktop drive before they eat up the rest of my space.
Bread, laundry, and photo cleanup, three simple things that could take most of the day. Honestly, that’s fine. If I can get those done, I’ll at least be able to say I accomplished something today.
Today isn’t a crisis. It’s just another winter day, and I’m learning, slowly, that coping is part of the new normal. It doesn’t come easily to me, and I don’t expect it ever will, but I plan on being around for a long time, so I’m going to keep learning how to make the best of that time, even when it’s incredibly difficult, and even when it stays difficult.
I’m okay. Not because this is easy, but because I’m still here and still choosing to cope. I don’t expect it to ever feel natural. so I’m learning how to live with what is.
I’m realizing that “fine” doesn’t mean cheerful or carefree. Sometimes it just means I’m steady enough to face the day and keep going. This is hard and it may always be hard, but I’m committed to staying, and to figuring out how to live the best life I can inside this reality.
I really haven’t made any plans yet for the day, but if it continues to snow and accumulate, I don’t anticipate leaving the house. I prepped some bread dough yesterday afternoon and put it in the refrigerator for an overnight ferment. I’ll most likely bake that off sometime today, which should at least add a pleasant aroma to this quiet interior.
I also have a load of clothes in the dryer that keeps calling my name, and glancing through my photos on my cell phone this morning, I really need to address moving them to another drive on my desktop. They’re taking up a tremendous amount of space.
Those three things alone could potentially consume most of my day, and that’s quite fine with me. If I can get them completed, I’ll have accomplished something today.
When the Sun Didn’t Show Up
Not sunshine outside — but something close to it within.
It’s early afternoon now, 1:38 PM to be exact, and I just finished folding all the laundry and putting it away. I did a little work on the computer, then headed into the kitchen to pull the bread dough I started yesterday, and set in the refrigerator for a cold overnight fermentation.
While I waited for it to warm up and rise a bit, I found myself standing at the patio doors again, staring out at that slate-gray sky. Heavy clouds. Snowflakes drifting down on and off. I kept hoping for even the faintest suggestion of sunshine, but it wasn’t coming.
And then I remembered a small Christmas Eve gift my sister-in-law and her children gave me, a sun catcher with a butterfly and the words “Always My Sunshine.” They gave one to my daughter and my son as well. I thought, this is the moment, so I hung it right there on the patio door, with the cold winter day just beyond the glass.
The message alone is comforting, but the butterfly makes it feel even more personal. Fran was always fond of butterflies, and I’ve found myself drawn to them ever since, weaving them into my blog as a quiet symbol of her life and her spirit. Watching that little butterfly hanging in the window today, against all that gray and snow, brought a surprising warmth into this quiet house.
Maybe it didn’t change the weather outside… but it changed something in here.
As I move about my kitchen this afternoon, trying to keep my thoughts in order so that I don’t end up ruining any of the things that I’m trying to prepare, thoughts keep coming through my head. In an effort to make this day at least somewhat celebratory I should prepare some type of poem, letter, whatever would be most appropriate, that’s surmises all that has transpired since Fran"s passing. Something that reflects all that I have posted since that date. that touches on her loving, kind, considerate and caring nature toward not only her family, but just about anyone she ever encountered. I’m thinking it should all also reflect on my depression regarding her loss, and what I have or should be looking forward to in years to come, God willing I have a few.
ALWAYS MY SUNSHINE
I move through this kitchen,
as carefully as I can, hands busy,
mind wandering,
trying not to spill what still matters.
The house knows your absence.
Even the quiet has weight.
Some days the sky outside
matches what I carry inside.
But you, Fran,
you were kindness in motion:
loving, considerate, patient,
generous with your time,
gentle with your words,
a steady light for family,
and for everyone you met.
You made people feel safe.
You made ordinary moments holy,
a meal, a call, a simple “How are you?”
that somehow meant,“I’m here. I care.”
Since you left,
I have learned what grief can do:
how it can flatten a day,
steal the color from a morning,
and leave me asking questions
that have no easy answers.
I have known depression,
the slow heaviness,
the fog that settles in,
the ache that returns
even when I’ve been “strong.”
And still…love keeps leaving
its fingerprints all over my life.
At the patio doors,
beyond winter glass and gray air,
there is that portal. between the locust trees.
I stand there and gaze,
the way I’ve done since you passed,
and I see you again:
your face, smiling down on me, as if to say,
“I’m still here in the way you love.”
In photographs,
in the recipes we shared,
in the people who still reach out,
in the butterflies that find the window,
in a sunrise that insists on being seen
in the bread that rises,
even when my heart feels low.
So I will not pretend this is easy.
I will not rush the missing.
But I will keep going,
God willing,
because you left love of life in me,
and I will honor that love.
I will carry you forward
in how I live :
with tenderness,
with generosity,
with patience for myself,
with gratitude for what we had,
and courage for what comes next.
And when the sun doesn’t show up,
I will remember this truth:
You are still my sunshine, not outside,,
but something close within.
Missing and wanting to have you here with me, on this New Years Eve, and always. Happy New Year Franny...
New Year’s Eve Without You
It’s 10:15 PM and I’m finally getting an opportunity to sit down and unwind.
As I mentioned earlier, my friend Bob and his wife invited me over to their house tomorrow morning for brunch, and I wanted to bring something to contribute. My original plan was simple: puff pastry with a sweetened cream cheese layer and cranberry chutney.
Unfortunately, after I prepared the cream cheese and the cranberries, I went to grab the puff pastry and realized what I thought was puff pastry in the refrigerator was actually phyllo dough. Needless to say, I was beside myself. But since the filling was already made, I had to come up with an alternative plan, one that took a lot longer than I’d intended.
I ended up making a star bread, using the same dough I use for my cinnamon rolls. The center portion is layered with cream cheese and cranberries, and to keep the filling from squeezing out at the tips, I added a thin layer of nut roll filling along with a light layer of cranberries near the very ends. I finished it off with a dusting of cinnamon and coarse confectioners sugar.
Now I can only hope the weather cooperates tomorrow, because they’re calling for snow squalls and possibly 3 to 6 inches of accumulation. If it gets bad, I won’t be going anywhere, and I suppose I’ll be eating at least a portion of this star bread myself.
I spent a lot of time in the kitchen today, all the while thinking of my beloved Fran and how, for many years, we sat together in the living room watching New Year’s Eve festivities on television. I always tried to make things feel festive for her. I’d make one of her favorites, pork and sauerkraut, the traditional New Year’s fare, and I’d usually put out appetizers too, often spinach and artichoke dip with toasted bread rounds.
I didn’t make any of that this year. It just didn’t seem right. Truthfully, none of what happens feels right anymore.
Right now I’m sitting here alone, listening to jazz, with an AI-generated video on the television, a metropolitan apartment overlooking a city with fireworks in the background. It’s interesting. It’s somewhat soothing. But it isn’t even remotely close to sitting here with Fran.
Fran rarely made it to midnight, but before she went off to bed she always kissed me good night and said, “Happy New Year.” Obviously, that’s not happening this year… or ever again.
There are no words to describe how much I miss being with her.
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