Twas the day before Christmas, tears dripping on blouse,
Many hearts and souls breaking, yearning for their spouse;
Stockings were missing from where they hung last year,
In their place was a silence that brought on tears.
Lay down beside the empty spot in the bed,
The grief came upon them and filled up their head.
She snuggled in his sweatshirt and he in her knit,
The emptiness upon them felt like a pit.
The next morning they rose and what did they hear,
Their favorite carol which brought such endear;
The family they came and gave hugs and their cheer,
Wasn’t Christmas without them but family was near.
I went through the motions as thought was expected,
To recall the memories we had collected;
I missed them so, no celebration was wanted,
My home, my heart, and my soul all were haunted;
I pulled over twice on the way to Grandma’s,
I could not hold it together, felt so raw.
When I arrived at her house I felt no better,
Tried to hide my tears in the sleeve of my sweater.
They hugged me as if I would break into pieces,
Avoiding the mascara pooled in my eye creases.
I plastered on a smile as best as I knew how,
Not thinking of future only here and now.
Present in body but spirit gone missing,
Up with my husband eternity wishing.
I got home that evening and sunk in his chair,
Wondering why I was left of our wonderful pair.
I prayed in my soul that I would find solace,
My grief go away and he be made flawless.
I cried and I cried, no miracle happened,
Tissues thrown out with the ripped Christmas wrapping.
I drove to a place so I could feel more near him,
But felt farther away and memory dim.
The first Christmas without my dear husband was hard,
My heart felt of rubble, my dreams were all charred.
I walked and I walked and in time I grew weary,
My life seemed so empty, of toil and such dreary,
5 Christmases now and I still think upon,
But colors are back and each day a new dawn.
I miss him and cherish those times we created,
He left much too early, God could have waited.
But it is what it is, and I hate saying that,
Just this past week I tossed his favorite hat.
I make way in my life for new and for old,
Wondering what Christmases ahead will hold.
To each of you on this Christmas of empty,
Of this grief and this sorrow we will never be free.
Look one step ahead it may just be better,
You are on a journey that will cause quite a stir.
In your heart and your soul, restless now for sure,
This journey must be walked, for their is no cure.
Walk ahead as you’re able, with a friend if you can,
Kick out the demons that haunt you, entering banned.
Lets tears fall when they call and don’t be ashamed,
You’re a widow of love, for that you are named.
~B.L. Boitson 12/24/12