Christmas in Heaven

My Darling, your first Christmas in paradise, how was it for you? Did you hang with your mom and your dad? I’ll bet your sister Jeanette was glad to see you. She always loved you a bunch. Is there really a rainbow bridge or did our best boy, Tyr just come running up to you?

That day about six months ago, I sat on the bed studying your features as you slumped in your chair dead. A Mona Lisa smile on your sweet face told me even then death was a friend. Looking and learning in spurts between screaming and crying, I saw the spirit had left the flesh grey, the spark that was you left the body, the shell. In the sprinkle of clarity I knew you were watching the scene. I could feel your love for Alma and Adri, whose hearts were battered. They loved you as friends.

Your wife, who hardly ever cried in her life, shed buckets, out of control, that which she values so much. You watched me swearing at paramedics, who wouldn’t help lift you to the bed, when you were not yet dead. Everything I tried to do that day went wrong, starting with the thunderstorm, when I first found you in trouble. Fate, an angel of God, conspired against me at every turn; nothing went right, no, not for me.

Your body was broken, you suffered cruel pain, when you lost your leg, you weren’t the same. I felt your shock that day in the room, when you pulled back the cover. Your leg wasn’t there, your eyes focused in horror, the hurt on your face, I’ll never forget it.

Our love mended you as best we could, your spirit prevailed, you came home and doing well. Iris Soto, the physical therapist, who came to the house, made you laugh. The two of you giggled when I’d come into the bedroom, where you were working on the bed and say, “What’s going on in here?” We visited Adri, the Wednesday before your death. We had a very good time. She said, “You, can’t keep your hands off her” to you. A guilty smile mischievously crossed your face. We were happy again. You told me that day that you could see yourself living to seventy-nine. I was sure that wouldn’t be enough.

Four days later you left me.