June 30, 2009

Christmas Letter 2004

Dear friends,

Another eventful year has passed us by (Almost). If I can remember, things that happened to me: I graduated, got a promotion at work, and lastly a car hit me on the crosswalk. Not too shabby. As an old man, I may somehow look at 2004 that I passed further on the road to becoming a man than in any previous years. You never know. To obtain perspective on a course of events, you need to distance yourself in time from said events.
As an example, when we say goodbye to our high school friends, hugging and crying, saying that we’ll be “friends forever,” we really didn’t know what that meant. I personally hoped that I would remain as close to everybody as the day we walked to “pomp and circumstances,” with uncertainty and hopefulness in our minds. The realities of time and place, along with our own ambitions and the cruel hand of fate (unseen plan of God, etc., choose your poison) have presented each and every one of us an existence that couldn’t have been imagined five years ago.
And so it will be. We will each grow and change; becoming more like the person that we are. In the end though, in four short years we all grew binds that will hold us close together forever, if it is impossible for us to be physically proximate, we have the advantage of always being somewhere in each and everyone of our souls. There is a small part of each of you inside me. Being friends with you have shaped me and helped me become the man I am.
It is this time of year that we do reflect on those that we love and care about in the world. I don’t know if it’s the weather or the incessant Christmas songs that they play on the radio, but it has become fact. This is not the season of glittering silver, and green plastic trees, the real meaning of the season is in remembrance of those you love. Hopefully those you care about surround you all. Not only at Christmastime, but the whole year through. Sadly, that isn’t the case for all the people I’ve grown to love over the years. But remember sadness cures nothing; rejoice in the fact that she lives still as long as parts of her memory live within us all.

To those that I love,
Merry Christmas.


John Edgar Mihelic