PART 14 – The Morning Before Christmas Made Me Remember How Much of Our Family Tradition Had Been Built Around Simple Things

I woke up before the alarm.

It was still early.

I made coffee and stood near the kitchen window.

The street was quiet.

Most of the houses had their curtains closed.

I looked at the calendar.

Christmas Day was tomorrow.

I had once imagined spending it with Adam, Renee, Lily, and Noah.

I had pictured the dining table.

The food.

The children arguing over the presents.

Instead, I had a volunteer schedule beside my keys.

I wasn't going to complain about that.

I had made the decision myself.

But I wasn't going to pretend I didn't miss my family either.

Both feelings were true.

I finished my coffee and began getting ready for the day.

There were a few household things I wanted to finish before Christmas.

I folded the laundry.

I wiped the kitchen counters.

I checked the refrigerator.

Then I found myself looking at the pecans again.

I had bought them for a pie.

I remembered how Walter used to prefer simple desserts.

He liked anything with nuts.

He said a dessert didn't need to be fancy if it tasted good.

I laughed quietly.

He had opinions about nearly everything in the kitchen.

After putting the groceries away, I went into the spare room.

Some of Walter's old belongings were still stored there.

I had sorted through most of them.

The hockey collection was gone.

The shelves that once held his binders were now empty.

I stood in the doorway.

For a long time, I had thought selling the collection meant letting go of another piece of him.

Now I saw it differently.

The things were gone.

The memories weren't.

I could still remember how carefully he had arranged the tickets.

I could still hear him explaining why one old program was special.

I could still picture him coming home from an estate sale with another item wrapped in newspaper.

I had complained about the clutter.

He had laughed.

I smiled at the memory.

Then I closed the spare room door.

Around lunchtime, I checked my phone.

There was a message from Clare confirming the arrangements for the following day.

I replied that I would be there.

I didn't receive anything from Adam.

I didn't send another message.

I had already told him how I felt.

I wasn't going to keep repeating myself.

In the afternoon, I took a short walk.

The air was cold.

A few children were playing near a house down the street.

Their laughter carried across the road.

I watched them for a moment.

Then I continued walking.

I thought about Lily and Noah.

I hoped they were enjoying the preparations.

I hoped they would have a happy Christmas.

I didn't want my disappointment to become something they had to carry.

They were children.

The decisions had been made by adults.

That distinction mattered to me.

When I returned home, I placed my coat on the hook.

I checked the bag I planned to take to the center.

Everything was ready.

Then I sat in Walter's chair.

The photograph on the shelf was visible from there.

I looked at it.

"Tomorrow, we're going to be busy," I said quietly.

It felt strange talking aloud.

But I had done it many times since he died.

Sometimes I told him about the weather.

Sometimes I told him what Adam had said.

Sometimes I simply sat in silence.

That afternoon, I didn't ask him for an answer.

I already knew what I wanted to do.

I wanted to spend Christmas helping people.

I wanted the donation to mean something.

And I wanted to remember my husband for the person he had been, not only for the things he had left behind.

Click here to continue reading: PART 15: I Arrived at Westdale With No Expectations Except to Help, and the First Thing I Saw Was Walter’s Photograph