“Christmas Eve gift!”, but my aunt didn’t hear me. She was yelling back the same thing. Yep. Its a weird family tradition. We stalk each other on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, trying to be the first to holler out “Christmas Eve gift” or “Christmas Gift” depending on which day it is. There’s no payoff. No gift. Just the satisfaction of knowing you beat the other person to the punchline.

I recently upgraded to iOS 8 and discovered I can send voice memos as a text. The recipient has no idea what you’re going to say. Guess what my entire family received this morning? “Christmas Eve gift” voice memos from yours truly. Years ago, we agreed that texting doesn’t count; its got to be audible. But now I can send my voice? Boom! My uncle, realizing that a voice memo from me on Christmas eve morning could only contain one message, didn’t listen to it. He called to tell me…and “get” me.

We’re a bit mental, I know. No one knows where it started. You can’t resist it, your only choices are to participate or stand there and get blasted with the greeting. The “winner” usually prances off like they just scored on a keeper from the 2-yard line. I remember our first Christmas when I told Kristi about it. She looked at me blankly. She finally came around, often leaning over in bed at 12:01AM and whispering “Christmas Eve gift”.

I miss those moments. Like everything else that happens during this season, each little thing contains some memory of how we did it when Kristi was with us. I never know when a moment will reach out and get me. Most go by with a mild tug at the heart strings. But then one will just grab me and my throat closes and I’m blinking back tears. Grief can be so surprising that way. You go from zero to 60 instantly.

I’ve learned to be ready for the unexpected. Its like our weird tradition. Either I roll with it, and let it come when it wants to. Or I could try to resist it. But resistance is futile. So I embrace it and then just keep on going. Its another reason I train. Triathlon requires me to just keep going. When my legs are tired or my lungs are burning, I just keep going. Even if I have to walk or coast or float, I keep going. And I find that as I keep going in sport, I can keep going in life.

You can do it. Get out there and train!

That’s a good word right there; its fit for a widower!