CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

MONDAY, DECEMBER 24

BLAINE

"Hurry up, dad!" I groaned as I called to my father, who was taking his sweet ass time doing something in the room he shared with Mom.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he yelled from the other room.

"What's he even doing in there?" I asked myself.

"I don't know. He wouldn't let me in there earlier, so it must be something top secret," Mom said with a wink.

I was fairly certain my Dad had waited until the last minute to wrap presents – it was his M.O. – but when his procrastination conflicted with getting to eat the food Mom, Cooper and I had spent most of the afternoon preparing, my patience was wearing thin and now was not the time to dawdle.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting," Dad said as he sat down at the table, a stray piece of curling ribbon stuck to his Aran sweater.

My mom dutifully reached out and removed the offending ribbon. "I see nothing has changed after all these years," Mom said as she placed the ribbon on the table.

"What fun would that be?" Dad asked as he placed his napkin in his lap. "Shall we dig in?"

"We were waiting for you," I replied before grabbing the casserole dish with the green bean casserole in it. Cooper took the plate of rolls in front of him and placed two on his plate before greedily trying to nab the casserole dish from my hands. I shot him a glare before scooping another spiteful spoonful onto my plate

"Sometimes I forget you boys are grown men," my mom mused as she watched Cooper and I impatiently shovel food onto our plates, aware of our heated interaction over the food.

"Cooper has less of an excuse. He's in his thirties."

"You're not far behind me, B," Cooper pointed out as he finally got his hands on his precious green bean casserole.

"Well I'm closer to thirty than forty, which you can't say – old man."

"Ouch!" Mom exclaimed from her seat across from me. "Cooper! Don't kick me and certainly don't attempt to kick your brother."

"Sorry mom," he mumbled as he passed her the casserole dish. She gave him a pointed look and I couldn't help but be smug; he'd been caught trying to kick me – again – and failed. Jerk.

"Alright boys, calm down," Dad interjected.

The nice part about this interaction is that nothing really had changed over the years. Despite the fact that Cooper and I were full-grown adults back at home again, we still fought and somewhat reverted to our younger selves when we were home with our parents.

When we each hosted holidays in our new locations, Cooper and I took the lead as host and made sure our parents as well as our sibling enjoyed themselves. We still would bicker, but generally we tended to be more composed on our newfound home turf. But when we were in Ohio, all bets were off. We acted like we were 7 and 16 rather than 26 and 35.

"So, Blaine," Cooper started as he handed off the bread to Mom. "What's new with you?"

"Oh, you know... work has been keeping me busy. Not too much to say other than that, really," I replied noncommittally as I took the plate of turkey from Dad and passed it to Cooper.

"Really,nothingelse?" he asked, mischievous glint in his eye.

I knew he was alluding to Kurt – it was the only thing he wanted to talk about when he called. Thankfully, he had only called to talk about Kurt twice and both times I was legitimately busy and dismissed the subject before moving on. But I hadn't expected that jerk to allude to Kurt in front of our parents – at our Christmas Eve dinner.

"What's he talking about?" Dad questioned, setting the casserole dish onto the table. "Is everything okay, Blaine?"

"It's fine, Dad. Coop is just trying to rile me up."

"Oh, I don't know about that B," Cooper stated. "You have to have more things going on in your life other than work. Have you made any new...friendslately?"

That's it; I'm going to kill him.

"Coop..."

"Oh, B, he's just trying to make sure you're not hanging out with just Santana and her girlfriend," Mom concluded.

"They're engaged now, Mom," I replied.

"Oh, that's wonderful for them! Pass on my congratulations. I do hope for the best for Santana, she really is lovely."

Somehow, Santana had won my Mom over from the moment she met her. San had a similar affect on my dad, oddly enough. It was a surprising development at the time since the Anderson family was known to be somewhat stuffy and proper in the past, but rough-edged Santana managed to charm her way into their hearts with her brutal honesty and snarky attitude. Plus, she was my best friend who stuck up for me over the years and my parents knew that she'd look out for me... primarily because she scared the shit out of anyone who dared cross our paths.

"Speaking of engagements, have you met anyone recently?" Mom asked innocently.

"Really?" I asked as I stabbed at my food, imagining that my turkey was Cooper since the rat bastard knew that this line of questioning would go this way.

"Blaine, your Mom is just looking out for you," Dad responded.

"And you haven't introduced us to a man since you were in college and I can barely remember who he was now. I don't want you to be all alone up there," Mom suggested. I knew that she was looking out for me – she had been since I was born, of course – but I knew at the root of it, Mom was itching for Cooper and I to settle down. And since Cooper still felt the need to bang anything with two legs and a pair of breasts, I was her only hope for a future of in-laws and grandchildren.

It was kind of reassuring that she saw that I would be desirable by another man and would settle down someday, but it also provided a lot of pressure to be dating regularly. And her jokes about male spinsterhood would only be funny for so long.

"I know, and thanks for that Mom," I said, sending her what I hoped to be thankful look as she nodded with acceptance.

"You're just capable of so much love, Blaine. It's a precious gift that's meant to be shared," she stated.

"Yeah, I bet Blaine is sharing that love with..." Cooper muttered under his breath.

"What are you saying son?" Dad questioned in Cooper's direction.

"Huh? Me?" he asked.

"Speak up. You know I hate when you boys mumble," Dad said. "You know I'm an old man who's hard of hearing."

We both rolled our eyes at our Dad's crack at his age. Dad was fairly young considering how old Cooper and I were – he was barely in his mid-60s – but he was sure to rub in the fact that he was eligible for AARP and continually got the Senior Citizen's discount at the movie theater. My Dad was a proud man but also a frugal one; he relished in the discounts and freebies thrown his way with his ever-increasing age. He got a weird sense of pride in being given these discounts and Cooper and I were constantly apologizing to our mother for his overly ridiculous antics and his constant musings about his age.

"I said..." Cooper started before the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," I murmured as Mom got up to get the door.

"Oh, goodness, please come in!" I heard my Mom say from the doorway. "Charles, look who's here."

We all turned toward the doorway and saw my Dad's brother and his wife and their three kids headed in.

"Surprise!" Uncle Alfred said as he peeled the scarf from around his neck. "I know you weren't expecting us until tomorrow, but the weather was good and we just powered through rather than staying at some dodgy Knight's Inn in middle-of-nowhere Ohio."

My father stood to greet his brother. "It's fine, Alfie," Dad said, clasping his brother into a tight hug. He moved along to my aunt and gave her a light hug as well. Cooper and I shot our newly arrived family members small waves to welcome them.

"It looks like you're just in time for dinner," Mom said, pulling in two chairs from the dining room.

"Oh, we ate on the way here. We figured since you weren't expecting us, you'd hardly be ready to feed five more people tonight," Aunt Ashley said as she tucked some of her hair behind her ears.

"Well, please sit with us if you'd like. You can nibble away at whatever food you'd like," Mom said, directing most of the invitation to my younger cousin Daniel, who was 12 and ate like a bottomless pit. At least he had when I saw him last year for Christmas.

"Boys, why don't you help your aunt and uncle get their bags and we'll pull around a few more chairs at the table?" Dad suggested.

Cooper nodded. "Are they still in the trunk?"

"Yeah," Uncle Alfred said, tossing his keys to his eldest son. "Luke, Leia – why don't you help your cousins pull everything from the car and bring it into the living room for now?"

Luke nodded and headed toward the front door as Leia rolled her eyes and trudged after her brother. They were twins and 16 and it wasn't their gender alone that made them total opposites – they couldn't be more different. Luke was athletic, outgoing, tall and blonde and Leia was shorter, pensive, and sarcastic with curly brunette hair. If it weren't for their eyes – which were practically perfect matches – you'd never even assume they were related, and I'm sure they appreciated it that way.

Cooper and I hustled after our younger cousins and went around to the trunk of their family's Expedition. Luke and Leia silently grabbed two bags each and headed back toward the house.

"What was that in there?" I quietly chastised Cooper. "You know I wanted to tell Mom and Dad about Kurt in my own time. And that time didnotmean during Christmas Eve dinner."

I couldn't see Cooper very well, but I knew him well enough that he was rolling his eyes at my outburst. "Chill out, B. I just think it's dumb that you're still keeping them in the dark about Kurt. It's not like he's some passing fling, right?"

Even though Cooper and I hadn't thoroughly discussed Kurt, he had decided that I was head over heels for the guy. Cooper wasn't wrong but since I hadn't told Kurt how much I cared about him, I certainly wasn't going to let my idiot brother be the first person I told about how I loved Kurt.

"It's not," I concluded. "But Coop, you've gotta give me a chance to do it in my own time."

"I think you're being paranoid," he said, pulling out a giant suitcase and laying it on the sidewalk. "But please tell me you're going to tell them before you go back home."

I nodded. "That was the plan. Kurt and I are taking the flight back to New York together so I was hoping to tell them about Kurt and introduce him to them all in one breath."

"Wow." Cooper said, removing one more bag from the trunk and clicking the door shut. "You're an idiot."

"Why?" I asked.

"You really want to tell Mom and Dad about your boyfriend right before you have them meet him? That's leaving you both up for a lot of questions – and you know Mom will ask about a billion."

I shrugged. "Hopefully, it will mean they'll be on their best behavior and not scare him away."

"You know you can't expect that with Mom and your dating life, B. She's probably going to ask if you and Kurt are going to get married – whether or not Kurt is present." Cooper pulled the duffel bag onto his shoulder and walked back toward the door. "Good luck with that," he said, laughing as he walked away.

"I think Kurt and I can handle it," I called out to my brother.

"No, I meant good luck with that giant suitcase little man. That thing has to weigh more than you," he replied with a chuckle as he continued walking into the house.

That asshole.

...

An hour later found all of the Andersons snugly seated around our dining room table. The food had been cleared – both by us eating most of it and the rest being neatly packed into the refrigerator – and the pies and desserts were quickly devoured, leaving a smattering of used dishes around the table. I had an entire empty pie pan in front of me and a sated look on my face as I patted my stomach contently, finally having my fill on pumpkin pie since Thanksgiving.

"I don't know how you manage to eat so much and stay so small," Aunt Ashley wondered as she started collecting the abandoned plates.

"I doubt he's getting any complaints," Cooper joked. I shot him a deathly glare as he shrugged innocently.

"I work out," I replied, placing my fork into the pan and handing it off to my aunt.

"I do too," Uncle Alfred said as he patted his somewhat significant beer belly and gave his plate to his wife.

"Yeah, you work your way out of your work pants into a pair of sweatpants and pass out on the couch," Aunt Ashley mused, causing the rest of us adults to laugh heartily. The kids were pretty zoned out – not really getting involved with our weird, grown-up jokes.

"Why don't we play some cards?" Dad asked, walking over to the curio cabinet that held a sizeable stash of playing cards for family gatherings.

Playing cards was a family tradition. When my Dad was growing up, he and his brothers would play cards every year for Christmas. They came from a large, lower middle-class family – Dad had 4 brothers – and getting new toys at Christmas wasn't always an option. So, rather than complain about not getting new toys, my Dad made sure that every year, he and his brothers learned how to play a new card game. With my Dad being the oldest, he took care of his family in the best way possible and it was something that had carried over when he started his own family.

Dad always cared for my Mom, Cooper and I and a lot of times that meant monetarily. Dad had a great job that paid him exceedingly well and it afforded our families luxuries that he didn't had growing up. He had learned how to manage other people's companies and their money and that knowledge had positively affected our family over the years. We were able to afford things like private schools, imported cars and even had time-shares across the country. Despite the luxuries that we had, Dad was insistent that we always remember where we came from as a family and that traditions are meant to be upheld.

That included the "tradition" him kicking all of our asses in Spades – one he had upheld for at least the past 15 years.

"And that's our cue," Leia said, backing away from the table. "Mom, Dad – I'm going up to the guest room," she said, pulling her phone out and headed toward the stairs.

"You and your brothers are sharing the bunk room," Aunt Ashley said, which was met with a groan from both twins. Leia and Luke sulked away with their younger brother following behind them, his face enthralled in the video game he held in his hands.

"I swear, you wouldn't think they came from the same womb sometimes," Uncle Alfred said as he shuffled the deck of cards Dad had handed him.

"It makes sense why I thought we were going to have two soccer players in the family; they were kicking each other the entire time they were in there," Aunt Ashley said as she joined us at the table.

Uncle Alfred dealt the cards and the rest of us took on a contemplative silence as we sorted through our cards.

"So, boys," Alfie said as he glanced at his own hand. "What's new with you?"

"Well," Cooper started. "I'm still out in LA, and have secured a great bit part in an upcoming J.J. Abrams film. But I can't tell you the role – it's top secret. You know how J.J. is."

I rolled my eyes at my brother. His career had blossomed some since high school and he was no longer the Commercials Guy. But his career had hardly reached the blockbuster levels he had hoped for, but he certainly wasn't doing too shabby. But he also wasn't tight with J.J. Abrams... definitely not tight enough to call him J.J.; he was just a chronic name-dropper.

"Any women on the horizon?" Aunt Ashley asked.

Cooper shook his head. "Nah, that's not really my scene."

"I wasn't aware you were gay these days," Uncle Alfred shot to Cooper, earning chuckles from the whole table.

"That'snotwhat I meant," Coop said as he organized his cards.

Our family had largely accepted my sexuality over the years – Uncle Alfred and his wife especially. Alfred was the youngest of my Dad's brothers and he was raised during the 1970s; a time where free love reigned and people were starting to become a little more tolerant of those that were different from them. When I had first come out, I knew it was Alfie that had helped talk to my Dad about my sexuality and because of that, I always had a soft spot for my uncle.

"If Coop isn't bringing in the ladies – or the gentlemen," Uncle Alfred said with a wink, "how about you Blaine?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not willing to look up at my uncle.

"We were just getting around to asking him about that before you all arrived," Mom chimed in as she kicked off the bidding for this game. I was thankful my Mom was my partner rather than Cooper, who sucked at card games more than he sucked at being nonchalant about my love life.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I grumbled, waiting patiently for my turn to bid.

"Okay," Uncle Alfred said as he shot me a knowing look. I groaned internally when I recognized my uncle's look meant;we're definitely talking about that later.

"How about work?" Aunt Ashley asked as she saw the need to shift the subject.

"It's going great. I'm in the studio with a band I helped sign. Things are coming along great and I get to work with this amazing producer," I said with a large smile on my face.

"That's wonderful, Blaine," Aunt Ashley said as she added two to her bid with her husband, who was her partner for the game. "We're so proud of you."

"We all are," my Dad said as he sent me a silent look of approval.

With that sentimental moment passed, the bidding ended and the cutthroat game of Spades began. This was something that I relished every time I was with my family. We were ruthless and overly competitive, but we shared so much laughter every time we were together. Whether it was sharing stories about the random celebrities Cooper had met, or the funny things Uncle Alfred saw as the owner of a car dealership outside of Chicago, or the way my Dad was groaning about being paired with my idiot brother for Spades, the joy and love we shared as a family was evident.

"Jesus, can you guys keep it down?" a voice boomed from the stairs. We turned to see a sleepy Leia on the stairs, hair askew with a scowl on her face. "You guys are so loud."

"Leia, you watch your attitude," Aunt Ashley shot toward her. "We're sorry for interrupting your sleep, but there's no need for you to blaspheme the Lord's name – especially so close to his birthday."

Leia rolled her eyes and I swore I could hear her mutter something like "old people" before turning her back to us and heading up the stairs.

As we watched the teenager retreat, we all sought to stifle a laugh, soon failing and bursting into laughter.

"Really, Ash?" Uncle Alfred asked. We weren't a very religious family, so Aunt Ashley's outburst was pretty comical.

"It was an open opportunity for a joke, so I took it," she replied.

"Yeah, using a $2 word. Nice," Cooper said holding out his fist for Aunt Ashley to bump. She rolled her eyes but nudged my brother's hand anyway.

"We really should be heading to bed," Mom said, glancing toward the clock, noting it was nearly midnight. "I know you guys need to lay out your presents for tomorrow and the sooner we all go to sleep, the more sleep we'll get before the kids wake us up at the crack of dawn."

We all nodded and said our respective goodnights. Uncle Alfred lingered around while everyone else was clearing out, so I figured he was looking to talk to me. As everyone said their goodnights and slipped behind their doors, Uncle Alfred and I sat at the table again.

"So, tell me about him."

"How do you know there's a—"

"Please, Blaine. I know you. You were deflecting earlier. Normally, if you weren't dating someone, you'd just give a polite 'no' and move on. But you pleading the fifth means there's something to be said," my uncle noted.

I sighed. "When did you get so perceptive?"

He chuckled. "Probably around the time I realized that I didn't have ESP with your aunt. Women are confusing as hell and the only way to avoid constantly being in the dog house is to learn how to read people a little better."

I sat staring at a non-existent stain on the tablecloth before I felt my uncle nudge me under the table. "Fine," I resigned. "His name is Kurt, we've been together for almost 2 months, and he's wonderful," I said, the last bit causing a smile to light my face.

Uncle Alfred smiled in return. "Kurt, huh?"

"Yeah," I said breathily.

"You've got it bad?"

"You could say that," I suggested.

"Tell me about him."

So I did. I told him about how Kurt and I met, the funny story about how he knew Santana and Wes – leaving out the making out portions of the story, of course – and talked about his job and his family and, lastly, about us as a couple.

"He sounds great for you," he decided after I had spewed out the whole story. I nodded in silent agreement – he really was great for me. "So why are you keeping him a secret? It seems like this is the kind of thing you should shout from the mountain tops."

"I-I..." I started. "I just don't want to put too much pressure on this relationship. It's still so... new. I just... didn't want to get my hopes up until now."

Uncle Alfred nodded silently, remembering when I waxed poetic about Jared only to share a few months later that he and I were no longer an item and my heart had been crushed.

"I understand," he said.

"I also didn't bring him up sooner because involving Mom and Dad makes it more real somehow. Makes the relationship...more."

"But you alreadyfeelmore, don't you? I can tell you're really into the guy."

"I definitely do. Ido," I assured him. "But you know how my parents can be. I just wanted to be... sure that he and I were both in this; that it wasn't some sort of casual relationship. I had plans for them to meet him when they drop me off at the airport when I head back to New York – we're taking the same flight back."

"So you're sure now? You're sure about this Kurt guy?" Uncle Alfred asked.

"Absolutely," my voice resounded.

"And you're okay with the fact that your Mom is going to bug you about Kurt every time you talk to her?"

I chuckled. "I know what I'm getting into. I've had a month to mentally prepare myself for her shenanigans."

He grinned as he sat back in his chair. "I'm happy for you, B. I know you haven't always had it easy with being gay in Ohio then picking a couple of bad apples when you were younger, but it seems like he's a better apple than that asshole you dated before."

I rolled my eyes. I knew I didn't exactly pick winners, but I knew that Kurt was different. If anything, hewasthe prize.

"Do you have any pictures of this Kurt?" Uncle Alfred asked; brow raised suggestively.

I groaned but pulled my phone out of my pocket. I flicked the screen on and showed him my locked screen – featuring one of the pictures of Kurt and I from our company holiday party. I had just changed it before I left for Ohio – I wanted to wait until Kurt wasn't in my presence before he knew that he was my phone background – and smiled as my uncle took in the sight of my gorgeous boyfriend.

"He's a looker," he said, handing me back my phone as the screen went black.

"Yeah," I said, flicking the image on one last time for good measure.

My uncle stood and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up to meet his gaze. "You be good to him, Blaine. And I hope he does the same for you."

"I will," I promised. "And he does."

He gave a small smile and a nod before retreating toward his bedroom. "Oh, and Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas, bud."

"Merry Christmas Uncle Alfred," I replied with a grin as I watched my uncle walk away. I looked at the clock on my phone, noting that it was indeed midnight – meaning it was officially Christmas.

I unlocked my phone – grin still in tact on my face from seeing Kurt's on my phone – and opened my text messages before drafting a simple message. Even if Kurt and I weren't planning on celebrating Christmas together until we got back, that didn't mean that we couldn't still celebrate it in some small way, right?

My fingers typed thoughtfully before I proofed and sent.

Merry Christmas, Kurt. I hope your all your Christmas wishes come true. I know mine are. –B

KURT

My Christmas Eve had been uneventful. In fact, I was fairly certain the song "Silent Night" was written with my Christmas Eve in mind. It turned out Finn was out with his girlfriend's family – even though he didn't live with Dad and Carole any more – and Carole worked the night shift at the hospital since her son wouldn't be in town for the holiday. This left me to spend the night with my dad with the understanding that we'd all be together – all of the Hummel-Hudson clan - on Christmas Day.

Spending all of this time with my dad brought back a lot of memories – good ones and difficult ones. I thought back on all of the Christmases that he and I spent piecing our lives back together after Mom died. I thought of all of the ruined dinners, the awful presents – really, Dad, I did not want that subscription to Sports Illustrated for Kids – and all of the holiday crafts I made him endure. But I also remembered the good memories we had; the Christmas trees we'd picked out, the marathons of holiday movies we'd enjoyed together, and the simple laughs we'd shared with each other over the years.

It was nice to reconnect with my dad and this year was no different. He and I spent most of Christmas Eve lounging on the couch and watching old Rankin-Bass Christmas classics like Frosty, Rudolph, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town. We sang the songs together – his "singing" sounding more like squawking – and nibbled on popcorn.

It brought me back to the second Christmas after my mom had passed away. The first year with us together had been really tense and we'd spent most of it with my dad's family in Michigan. Dad's family didn't want to leave the two of us alone together on our first holiday without Mom around, something I'm sure we were both in desperate need of at the time. But our second Christmas without Mom was spent with just the two of us.

I remember Dad wasn't exactly sure what to do. We didn't ever do a big Christmas dinner but opted for a big breakfast Christmas morning while we unwrapped presents. The Christmas following Mom's death, my grandparents had taken the charge in keeping the tradition of Christmas breakfast alive. That year with Dad and I together alone, Dad thought a sufficient meal would be burnt Pop-Tarts and slightly-too-acidic orange juice.

The truth was, my dad didn't want to make any of our traditional Christmas breakfast dishes because he was afraid he'd do it wrong and we'd both fall apart remembering how much better things were with Mom. Dad did a great job trying to hold us both together in the wake of her death, but traditions were something that had to shift because the memories were too painful.

Despite Dad's efforts to not make him comparable to Mom, that's exactly what happened. I had cried over the burnt confections and wished that Mom was still there to make breakfast with us and watch Christmas movies together. Quietly, my dad shuffled to the pantry and pulled out bags of popcorn and put them in the microwave, ignoring the fact that it was 8 in the morning and far too early for popcorn.

I remembered standing in the kitchen – confused by my father's silent actions. Once the popcorn was made, he steered me toward the living room where presents were spread on the floor beneath the tree and plopped me down on the couch. He sat next to me and took my hands into his. Looking back, I vividly recall the way my tiny, pale hands looked in his larger, rough ones. Dad and I couldn't have been more different, but moments like that reminded me how we clung to each other when it really mattered.

Dad sat down, looked me in the eye and said, "Son, I'm sorry your mom isn't here. I miss her a lot and I know you do too. And I'm sorry that breakfast wasn't what you were hoping. But we can still watch our favorite Christmas movies together and open gifts. Your Mom would want us to still do those things – together." So he and I sat there and watched the movies together. It took a while before the looming silence had passed, but soon we were cracking small smiles and humming softly with the music.

As the years passed, Dad and I made sure to watch the movies either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, depending on what our plans involved. And it was something we did with just the two of us – silently revering my mother's memory as we watched.

Since it was a quiet night and just the two of us, we opted to watch our holiday classics on Christmas Eve. Aside from our typical banter about the movies and singing, we didn't talk much. Dad and I were fine with silence and sometimes, just being with each other was enough.

Near midnight, Dad called it a night. The holidays were always a busy time in the auto business with a lot of out-of-town people needing help or people preparing to make their journeys across the country to visit loved ones, so I knew Dad was tired.

He bid me a soft "goodnight" before heading to his bedroom to sleep. When I trekked up the stairs a few minutes later – hearing soft snoozing coming from my dad's room – I docked my iPod in the speaker set I'd left behind and clicked on my favorite holiday playlist.

Ironically, it wasn't a holiday playlist at all. It was a playlist comprised of my mom's favorite Beatles songs. Other than singing Christmas songs at Christmas, Mom would always sing one of her favorite Beatles songs to me as a Christmas lullaby. It was a weird tradition, but it was one that I missed the most.

As the first song streamed from the speaker, a smile caught on my face.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Somehow, the lyrics of this song spoke to my heart more than they had in the past. I remember this being one of my mom's all-time favorite songs and was one of the few that I swore I could almost hear her singing as the song played in the background.

Mom was the eternal optimist – something I wished I had inherited from her. The years of abuse and squalor I had endured over the years had made me slightly cynical, but Mom never was that way. Even in the face of adversity, she shone like the sun with her unending joy and happy demeanor. The reason she loved this song so much was because it talked about how to take something that was so sad and making it better and it was something she strove to do.

After she had died, I couldn't listen to this song for a long time. Ironically the sad song had not made things better. When the first notes would sing through my ears, I would immediately turn it off and shut up like a clam. But slowly, the song became bittersweet and soon it really did make things better. It reminded me of her and her everlasting positivity and the joy she brought us, a sad time being made better.

I lay staring at my ceiling thinking about the lyrics and the song for what felt like hours before I heard my phone ping with a new message.

I flicked my phone on – welcoming the background image of Blaine and I as James Bonds from his holiday party – before opening the text from the man depicted on my home screen. I grinned as I read Blaine's text, beaming at the fact that he thought of me and wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas even though we were going to celebrate later in New York.

Merry Christmas to you too, Blaine. I'm glad your wishes are coming true, I think mine will too. –K

As I thought of the upcoming celebration Blaine and I would share with the streaming tune of "Hey Jude" resounded through my ears, I sat up as if struck by a bolt of lightning.What a perfect gift idea, I thought as I waited for a moment to see if Blaine was going to reply before I plugged in my phone, clicked off the light, and settled down to sleep.

I didn't quite know exactly what I would find, but I had a good idea of what my gift to Blaine would involve. I was going to do just what the song said, taking a sad song and make it better.