Christmas without Mommy

Christmas Without Mommy

“T’was the night before Christmas” or so the poem goes
For 15 years our Christmas Eves ended with this prose
Our children all snuggled in close on our laps
Their last story before their long winters naps
I remember the twinkle in your bright hazel eyes,
As you thought of “Santa’s” morning surprise
How the kids would rise early and give a loud shout
As they ran to the Christmas tree where the gifts were laid out.

But this night is different than those come before,
As I look at our children, finishing the story once more.
My son on my lap, my daughter at my side
All feeling emotions that we can’t simply hide.
I look at my son and he looks up at me
And whispers three words “I miss mommy.”

With tears in our eyes, I tuck them in bed
Walk down the steps shaking my head
Remembering, how things used to be
How happy we were being you and me
But two weeks have passed since you left with the car
I stare out the window, not knowing where you are.

I sit by the phone awaiting your call
Check email daily, spend hours pacing the hall
I think of the strain of your daily life
Blame myself for causing much of the strife
Long hours at the office, no time for dates
Ignoring your words until it was too late

So now I sit here on Christmas Eve hating the night
Wrapping the presents you left just before you took flight
Signing the labels with “From Mommy and Daddy”
Wishing you were here to help me place them under the tree.

The emptiness I feel, the guilt, the despair
Wishing you in my arms, telling you how much I care.
I stand in front of our large picture window.
Staring out at the magic of fresh falling snow
I make my last Christmas Eve wish.
Then return to the kitchen, I clean the last dish.

I do not remember falling asleep that night
I tried staying awake with all of my might
The hope that my Christmas Eve wish would come true
That Christmas day would come and I would share it with you.
Just as I feel my heart starting to sink
I hear a small noise that starts me to think.
My heart beating faster I move toward the door
I reach down to open it, then stare at the floor.
Listening, are my ears playing tricks?
I open the door, what I see makes me sick.
An empty front stoop, empty space with no care.
But suddenly, a familiar sound moves through the air.

I turn toward the drive, the snow forming a mist
Then I see you, bags held tightly in each fist.
At first I just stand there, not knowing what to do
Not sure at first, that it is really you.

I move down the steps, your eyes starting to tear
As I move closer, do I also see fear?
That you would not be welcome
To this place you call home?
Seeing this sight is more than I can bear
I pull you into my arms and just hold you there.

Taking the bags and holding your hand
I walk with you slowly, as careful as I can
As if afraid I will break you if I move to fast
We move down the walk reaching the door at last

Slowly we enter and hear a small sigh
And I catch the form of our son in the corner of my eye.
Moving faster than I had ever seen before
He moves by the door
And pushes past me
Grabbing hold tight to his Mommy.

I help you off with your coat, our son holding tight
Our daughter stands on the stairs, her eyes looking for a fight.
I move to her side and give her a hug
Playing the mediator, never the thug
Slowly she moves down the stairs toward her mother
Gives her a hug, and also hugs her brother

We spent that Christmas day, unlike any other
We slowed down, hugged each other, and didn’t visit your mother
As Christmas day ended, the kids sent to bed
We sat close together, I cradled your head.
We talked of our love, watched each other cry
And now we know how much harder we must try.

We learned that though Christmas gives us love for a season.
We must slow down and love, for no other reason
Than knowing that time given to us to love and to play
Is growing shorter and shorter with each passing day.