A tiny tree, barely 4 feet tall, stood there in the sparsely furnished apartment, blinking with nearly translucent coloured lights.  It was the only remnant left of a once happy home in Christmases past.  A star was still on top, dusted with a smattering of shiny silver glitter that had seen its share of faces from being handled from year to year.  The kids used to laugh hysterically at each other when they noticed the sparkly noses and cheeks.  Ah those precious memories.

Now they were all gone.  Grown-up, with families of their own and new happy memories to make. 

What a lonely time of year. 

He had also gone, years ago when God felt his suffering should end.  It had been time for him to leave, but not for me (and really, I won’t be ready for quite a while).  Still, the loneliness is almost unbearable at times.  I wish the kids had more time to spend with me, but they are busy.  Always going places and doing things, taking the grandkids to hockey and piano, and just living life.  I do understand, but it doesn’t make things any easier.  And today...well...it is hard.

At least the tree is still there, bringing joy and hope with it’s bevy of ornaments…a rare collection. 

One, my favourite, was a glass ornament my husband bought on our first Christmas together.  It was 1946, and Sears Roebuck had a marvelous catalogue to order from.  I had oohed and aahed at this one particular angel ornament, and he had scrimped and saved up money to order it, and then hid it from me until Christmas morning when we were having our breakfast of toast and eggs.  He had wrapped it in tissue and put it into my teacup.  When I went to sit down, I realized it was there, and opened it.  It was so pretty, painted a beautiful soft pink like a child’s rosy cheeks.  It had wings made out of feathers (I think they were from ducks or geese) and was holding a tiny golden heart.  As you can well imagine, now being 2008, the feathers had seen better days.  The angel’s head had been torn off by the boys about 30 years back, but a little dab of krazy glue made it right as rain.  No matter how tattered, the ornament still reminded me of Gareth and had pride of place, front and centre on the tree.

A little lower down on the tree there was the one that Cole had made when he was in grade 2, the cross made of some willow branches, hanging from some crimson red yarn.  How proud he was when he brought it home from school saying, “I made it for you mommy!”  Over the years, many such ornaments came home from school or Sunday school, and I kept them all--even the one that Mackenzie had used to squash the bee.  I cleaned it off as best I could, and was grateful that honey has a nice odour!

Caitlin has such a chaotic way about her, and the ornaments she brought home, were generally similar to what you would see the artist Picasso paint.  No rhyme or rhythm to them.  There was one that looked as if someone had thrown up on it, but she said it was called abstract art and that she was using different “mediums” to make it bumpy.   At least it had been cut the shape of a gingerbread man.  It really is amazing what some people call art!  But the ornaments from Caitlin were still lovely and appreciated.

And then there were the ornaments from Melissa.  Oh Melissa.  She seemed to have a knack for creating beauty, and she had made or bought several beautiful ornaments over the years.  The crochet angel was delicate, with a halo of silver piping.  She seemed to know how special angels were to me and would buy one or make one for me every year.  She planned on going to university and becoming a high school teacher if she could make enough money to go.

It was just after she graduated from high school when she was diagnosed with leukemia.  The doctors said that she wouldn’t have long, and they were right.  Before her birthday that December, she left the earth for a happier place.  What a loss.  She would have changed the world.  But I suppose she did, even in the short time she had with us.  Her strength during her sickness overwhelmed us all.  She was more mature than her years, and she reached many hearts as she shared her struggles and triumphs with her fellow patients.  She was a light in the darkness in that hospital.  I will always remember that time of faith and hope where no hope dwelt.

My ornaments, they are so special.  Each one precious, as each child is and was to Gareth and I.


Oh my!…I’ve gone and nodded off in my rocker again.  And it’s 4:00 already!?  Time to get up and get some dinner cooked.  Enough memories for today.   Tomorrow will bring others.

Oh!  Who’s that at the door?  Cole!  What a surprise!  And with the whole family!  I didn’t think you’d be off work this early!  You asked for some time off?  Oh, you remembered it was Melissa’s birthday today and wanted to spend some time with an old woman.  How nice, how very touching. 

Kids!  Come give grandma a hug!  You brought me some ornaments? What a cute puppy!  Oh…it’s a donkey! You made them all in school…for me?  What wonderful grandchildren I have!

Let’s go and hang them on the tree…


This is just a reminder that Christmas can be a very sad time for some people.  Please remember to visit those who have lost loved ones, the widows & widowers, the infirm and anyone else needing the extra support!  They will appreciate it so much.