Mistletoe and Widows Weeds

Dear Michael,

The Holidays are fast approaching.  There are Salvation Army Santa's ringing their bells, Christmas music being piped through the mall.  Lights are lit on the Plaza, the stores are brimming with bargains that reek of merriment and joy, and the kids are all excited about the magic of Christmas.  Everywhere people are rushing to the stores and the television plays classic Christmas movies....the movies we grew up with, the ones we always watched late at night while eating crackers and cheese and drinking wine.

The ghost of Christmas past is haunting me.  It shows me scenes from our life together.  I see the lights on the house, the trees that were decorated in three different rooms,  the house smells of cookies and cheesecakes that I've been baking and there are presents to wrap and put under the tree.  I hear the love and laughter that echoed through our home.  I see you coming in from the cold, smelling like snow, and I feel the coldness of your ears as I welcome you home with a kiss and a hug under the mistletoe.

Then the ghost of Christmas Present appears to torture me, to show me what my life has become.  The tree is up and lit..but there are no decorations on it.  They still sit in the boxes strewn around the living room floor.  I've only bought one gift, it's not wrapped..heck, I haven't even paid the bills this month, I haven't combed my hair today.  Our little guy is tired of watching the endless Christmas movies that I play for him, hoping to somehow infuse this sadness with some Christmas Spirit.  Depending on canned laughter, characters in a movie and slapstick comedy to somehow spread some Christmas Cheer into his life.  But, I think even at five, he sees the contrast between the happy people in the movie and us.

We went to the Christmas Play at the Baptist Church with the neighbors,(when they said to take care of the widows and orphans, Tru turned to me and said "You're a widow".) we look at the lights on the neighbors houses (our house remains unlit), and I decorated your grave.  I made you a grave blanket.  It was beautiful and sad and I wanted to make it for you.  I could hear you tell me "G, you can just do anything".  

I made you your Christmas present this year, and it was a grave blanket!  And I took pictures of it and when I put the pictures on the internet for all to see....it suddenly hit me!  My husband is in there!  My sweet, wonderful husband is in that grave covered by greenery, covered by dirt.  My beautiful, wonderful, warm, loving husband was buried 6 months ago.  And the reality of it is like hot coals in the pit of my stomach.  And I beg this ghost of Christmas present to leave me, to bring back the Ghost of Christmas Past.  

I am determined to get through this, Michael.  I close my eyes and I move forward.  Going through the motions, ignoring the fact that the Holidays will come.  I focus on other tasks.  Tomorrow, my goal is to put up the tree.  I HATE that tree.  I HATE the lights and the baking and the cards I'll send out.  I HATE that you are not with me here.  I HATE this missing you and I wait for the waves of pain to pass so that I can bake cookies and order Christmas presents on line.  So that I can do this thing.  So that I can TRY to make a memory for Tru that's good and happy, so that he doesn't look back on this Christmas and remember nothing but the pain.

There are times I yell at you and ask if you realize what you left me to?  Do you see me falling apart?  See the house a mess, the laundry piling up?  Do  you see me wearing these tired old pajamas and forgetting to comb my hair?  Do you see me walking around like a zombie..the life sucked out of me and all my energy drained along with my happiness? Do you see how scared I am?  How I'm afraid of everything now? Do you even recognize me now? (Because I hardly recognize myself). Or do you see me surviving?  Do you see that so far, we're still living, still moving forward? Do you look at me and know that I will make it and that this life is only for a moment and eternity is waiting with all it's glory and wonder and love?

And what of the Ghost of Christmas Future?  Would it show me that I'm still in this house of mourning? Still wearing my widow's weeds? Will it show that things never got better?  Or will it show me a future where Tru has grown into a man you would be proud of?  Will it show me that God has used this pain and my life to His Glory? Or will it show me that even though I never stopped missing you, I found a way to live my life, to find some happiness in this existence that God has destined me to?

I miss you so much, Michael.  I need you so badly and you seem so very, very far away right now. If I could have just one wish, I would wish you here with Tru and me for just one day.  One Christmas morning.  Just one more Christmas of finding a Christmas card on my pillow when I come to bed, one Christmas morning of waking up next to you, one Christmas morning of watching together as our little guy opened his presents.  If I could have just one wish Michael, it would be to have just one more of your sweet, wonderful kisses under the mistletoe.  Just one more.

I love you, Baby Boy.