Nature isn't perfect nor is it supposed to be, so of course there are holes in the Christmas tree. Big deep holes with nothing but whispy branches nearby - too weak to hold the lightest of ornaments.
Maybe I was meant to have that empty space - just there on the side of the tree closest to my favorite chair. With no bright distractions I can gaze into the space that leads to the trunk that holds up the branches that hold all the memories of Christmases past.
A piano plays a quiet "Oh Christmas Tree" on my CD player as I think about everyone I've known who has ever lost a parent - even my own parents. I feel a strong need to apologize to them for never fully understanding just how hard Christmas is when they're gone.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the space without ornaments. "I just didn't know until now."
It was impossible to know.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking about you knowing this was the "first" Christmas. It gets easier but not really. There will always be an idellible void left where they should be.
ReplyDeleteLove you Snapper.
Patty
Kathy, I have read several of your posts over the last year or so. I found your link on Stan's site. You have a good heart. I'm on Keller often as BostonIrish.
ReplyDeleteDavid
Thank you, David. And it's nice to finally "meet" the infamous BostonIrish.
ReplyDelete