The Christmas Hope

by VanLiere, Donna

  “Please keep Sean safe,” I prayed. “Oh, please, Lord, please help him. Please.” I prayed over and over again, repeating the same things. I couldn’t think straight to put anything together beyond “Please, please, please.” I fumbled with my cell phone and called the airline but heard a fast busy signal in my ear. I dialed it again and heard the same fast signal. I screamed. There was either a problem with service on my end or with theirs. “Please let him be alive and safe,” I prayed, pushing redial. There was that same fast busy signal again. I threw the phone down. I didn’t know what to do. Did I just pass the exit? I picked up the scrap piece of paper on which I’d scribbled out the general directions. Exit 218. Was that 218 that I passed? She said it would take about forty-five minutes but I had no idea how long I’d been driving. Here was another exit … 217. One exit away. I ran stop signs and red lights and saw a large white building in the distance. I gunned the engine and pulled into the drive leading to the emergency room.

  I ran through the parking lot and into the hospital. There was a group of people behind the desk but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. Were they floating or was I? I tried to walk to the desk. Something was wrong with my legs. It was hard to move. “I’m looking for my son.” No one paid attention, or if they did, they didn’t pay attention quickly enough. I ran down the hall toward a young man with a white jacket and a name tag. I looked at it briefly. It was on the list of names Mark and I had chosen for Sean but I forgot the young man’s name the moment I saw it. “I need to know where my son is,” I said. “He’s here. I need to know where he is.” I was getting frantic. The young man walked me toward the desk where no one had paid attention to me.

  “What’s his name?” He asked.

  “Sean Addison,” I blurted out. “Someone called and said he’s been in a car accident.”

  The young man stopped when he heard Sean’s name. “I’ll get the doctor,” he said. When I saw that young man’s face and heard the change in his voice I knew that something terrible had happened and it was as if ice water rushed through my veins. The sensation almost brought me to my knees. I was shaking and weak but ran after him.

  “I want to see Sean,” I said, catching up to him.

  He nodded but wouldn’t look at me. “I’ll send the doctor out right now,” he said, moving toward a door. He disappeared and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I began looking in each room for Sean but I couldn’t find him. When I saw the young man I ran toward him. “The doctor’s in surgery right now but will be out when he’s finished.” I could tell by his demeanor that he was trying to avoid any further conversation with me. He tried to get away but I grabbed his arm.

  “You tell me.”

  He looked at me.

  “You tell me what has happened to my son.”

  “We really should wait for the doctor,” he said.

  “Tell me what happened to my son!” I screamed. I could tell by the look on his face that I was putting this young man in an awkward situation but I didn’t flinch. I had to know.

  “He fell asleep and drove under a semi that was parked on the side of the highway.”

  My heart leaped to my throat.

  “The paramedics brought him here and he was conscious. He was able to talk to us.”

  I nodded.

  “But we could see that there had been a lot of damage.” He spoke slowly. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Addison. Sean’s injuries were too severe and he died on the operating table before we could help him.”

  There are no words for that moment. My heart hadn’t stopped racing since I received the phone call but now it had been slammed into a brick wall. My vision blurred and I felt myself falling. The young man helped me to a chair. Where was Mark? Where were Mom and Dad? Why was I sitting here with this stranger when there were sugar cookies to roll out at home? Sean had called and said he’d be home in a little bit and I needed to get everything done. I heard laughter in front of me. Two nurses were sharing a story with someone at the desk and their laughs rang through my ears at deafening levels.

  “Can I get you some water?”

  Who said that? I stared at the young man next to me and shook my head. “What did he say?”

  The young man looked at me.

  “When you said Sean was able to speak to you. What did he say?”

  He paused and pushed away an imaginary piece of lint off his pants.

  “He told us his name and where he lived and he said that you were home alone tonight waiting for him.”

  I felt tears streaming down my face.

  “Then he said that he wanted you and his dad to know that he always loved you. Always.”

  I put my face in my hands and wept and wanted death to snatch me as quickly as it had my son. I wanted to die sitting beside that stranger because I couldn’t imagine leaving that hospital and walking back into our home ever again. Not a home without Sean in it.

  “Is that all?” I said, looking at him.

  “He wanted me to tell you to never stop loving the children. That’s all.”

  I moaned and put my hand on my head, trying to hold it up.

  “You should know that he wasn’t afraid.”

  I looked at him.

  “He wasn’t afraid. He was calm as he spoke to me. Everything about him was peaceful.”

  “I need to see him,” I said.

  The young man nodded and led me through a door that I never imagined I would go through and when I did my knees buckled.

  “If it would help, I can call a funeral home for you,” the young man said, pulling a chair close for me. “They’ll take Sean to a funeral home in your hometown.”

  I stood at Sean’s side and nodded.

  “Would you like to wait in a private room?”

  “I’d like to stay with my son,” I said.

  “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.” The young man left the room and I never saw him again. Days later I couldn’t describe what he looked like to Mom because it all happened too fast. I was with that young doctor for a couple of minutes but because of the circumstances I couldn’t remember anything about him except to say that he had been very kind.

  After nineteen years of marriage, it was hard for me to separate my point of view from Mark’s. Whenever I met people, I met them not only through my eyes but through Mark’s as well. If I went to a new restaurant I didn’t just sample the food through my own taste but also through Mark’s. Marriage does that. We no longer factor in just our own likes and dislikes, observations, or perceptions in any situation without filtering those things through the eyes and heart of our spouse as well. But all that changed after Sean died. As hard as we tried, Mark and I could no longer connect. We were with each other but it was different now. We were bonded by grief but the trouble with grief is that no one goes through it the same way as someone else. Mark immersed himself with all things Sean. He watched our old videos of Sean learning how to walk, singing his ABCs, “reading” Goodnight Moon or Chicken Little, or dancing for Grandma and Grandpa. Mark would sit in Sean’s room and read through his old school notebooks and look through our photo albums. He played Sean’s last message on the answering machine over and over and every time he played it I left the room. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t hear his voice or look through photo albums or watch our old videotapes because each time I’d hear Sean’s voice it was as if a new wound was opened and it made me feel raw inside. Mark’s emotions were always front and center but mine were deeper; I couldn’t pull all of my feelings to the surface and for the first time in our marriage Mark and I found ourselves unable to talk. It was as if my tears dried up and I couldn’t cry anymore. I was numb. We tried counseling but I gave up on it after a while. I couldn’t talk with Mark about Sean so how was talking to a stranger with Mark in the same room going to help? I wanted to talk to Mark but the words would never come and they wouldn’t come because in my heart I blamed him for Sean’s death. I believed that if he hadn’t worked on the 24th I would still have my s
on. If he hadn’t worked Sean would have come home as scheduled. Mark and I had been each other’s closest friend and the love of our lives but after Sean died we were no longer available to each other.

  I couldn’t sleep at night. Neither could Mark. I’d get out of bed and wander the house before going back to bed an hour later. Then Mark would get up and I’d hear the TV or the shuffling of books before he’d come back to bed after an hour or so. Two years after Sean died Mark got up in the middle of the night and slept in the guest bedroom; he’d been there ever since and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  It was hard to get out of bed each morning. If it hadn’t been for the children and families I worked with I’m sure I wouldn’t have. Somehow Sean knew that. That’s why he wanted that young man to tell me to never stop loving the children because the minute I stopped working with them would be the day I stayed in bed and never got up again.

  I tried going to church after Sean died but after several Sundays I couldn’t go anymore. “They don’t need me there,” I told my mom when she asked a year after Sean’s funeral. “They don’t need to see me sitting there with my long face.”

  “But you need them,” Mom said. “You need people who care about you.”

  I didn’t need them and I didn’t want to be around them or anybody else, but I didn’t say that to her. I just wanted to be left alone. I found that I couldn’t even talk with Mom about Sean. It was selfish on my part; she had lost her grandson and wanted to connect with me but I kept her at arm’s length. It was easier that way. Time and again she sat down and tried to talk with me.

  “Patti, God promised that He would never leave us,” she said after dinner one day.

  I felt anger at what she was saying but didn’t show it. “I know that, Mom.”

  “No, honey, you don’t,” she said.

  I felt my jaw tighten.

  “I just know that God was with Sean, helping him hold on until he could talk to that young doctor at the hospital.” Her voice broke and tears flowed over her cheeks. I wanted to be angry but I couldn’t. “If God left Sean during those last moments of his life then God’s a liar, Patti, and I don’t believe that.”

  I squeezed her hand. She could believe whatever she wanted to help her through Sean’s death but as far as I was concerned God could have prevented the accident. He could have wakened Sean so he wouldn’t have hit the semi or he could have saved Sean’s life at the hospital. If God hadn’t abandoned Sean I would still have him today.

  The kitchen door opened and I jumped. Emily was finishing her eggs and I realized I hadn’t paid attention to her in the last few minutes. I looked up to see Mark coming through the door. “Well, hello,” he said, looking at Emily. “I didn’t know we had company.”

  “This is Emily,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts.

  Mark extended his hand. “Hello, Emily. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  She looked at him and remained quiet. It was enough for her to get to know me—now she had to add yet another stranger to her life.

  “My mom died,” she said, as a way of introduction. I had wanted to prep Mark before he got home and tell him what was happening. I hadn’t imagined Emily would tell him herself. I could see it took Mark off guard.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “I’m sorry your son died.” Her words left a lump in my throat.

  “Did you stay here last night?” Mark asked.

  She nodded.

  “You can stay here as long as you like.”

  “Are all airplane flyers tall?” she asked, looking up at him.

  Mark smiled. “No, some of them aren’t, but we tall ones don’t hang around with them.”

  “Are you going to help with the Christmas tree?” She was already at ease with Mark; he always had a way with kids. Mark looked at me and I tried to smile. “Santa’s helper brought it.”

  “You mean an elf brought a tree?”

  “Yes. My mom and me didn’t have one last year but she said we’d have one this year. Can you help us?”

  He looked at me. The last tree we had decorated was the year Sean died. That was nearly four years ago.

  “I’d love to.”

  There. It was settled. The three of us would be decorating a Christmas tree and it’d be the first time for all of us in a long time.

  “I meant to call and tell you about Emily,” I said to Mark in the garage as he looked for extension cords.

  “It’s okay.”

  “She’s sleeping in the guest bedroom.”

  He stopped. “That’s okay. I’ll sleep in the other room.” Sean’s room. I turned to walk back into the house. “Where will she go from here?”

  “I’m trying to contact one of the foster families today.”

  “But it’s so close to Christmas. She’s so little.”

  I knew what he was saying but Emily couldn’t stay with us. We weren’t foster parents. Plus, I’d already put my job on the line by bringing her home in the first place.

  “Does she have a dad?”

  “Somewhere. Who knows?”

  “Any grandparents?”

  “In name only.”

  “How did her mother die?” he asked.

  “Car accident.”

  He shook his head. It hit close to home. He unwrapped the extension cords that were in a tangled ball and I walked back into the house. That was the longest exchange Mark and I had had for days.

  I walked into the living room. It was a mess. Decorations and boxes were everywhere. In the months following Sean’s death I began to clean and organize the house. It was the one thing I could control and I wanted things to be in their place and to be clean. I pushed the thought of the mess out of my mind. This tree was for Emily. I could clean later.

  We strung the lights first. We started at the bottom of the tree and worked our way up. Then we hung a string of braided gold-and-green garland. “This is what a queen wears,” Emily said, admiring a strand of garland.

  “The king wears it, too, doesn’t he?” Mark asked.

  “No,” Emily said, matter-of-fact. “The king wears purple and pointy shoes.” Mark laughed.

  I stood back to survey the tree. “I think I need to put more garland in this area,” I said, pointing.

  “Let me get it.” Emily ran for the garland and rushed it over to me. I had to smile. Roy was right; despite what she’d been through, she enjoyed doing this.

  The bulbs came next. I picked up a box filled with bright green, red, and blue bulbs and opened them. Mark picked up a red bulb and slipped a hook through the loop at the top. I bent down to open another box and discovered it was filled with angels. “Oh, these are pretty.”

  Emily ran to it and peered inside. “Let me see.” She bent the box toward her. There were gold and iridescent angels piled on top of each other. “Angels,” she said, clasping her hands together. “We have to make sure they’re way out here on the limb,” she said, pointing, “so they can see everything.” As Emily and Mark decorated each limb I slipped into the kitchen to make some cocoa. I’d always made cocoa when Sean was a little boy and it seemed appropriate today. I stirred it on the stove and heard Christmas music filtering from the living room. Mark had pulled out some old favorites and I could hear him humming.

  “Frosty’s not real,” Emily said, listening to the words of the song.

  “He’s not?” Mark asked. “How do you know?”

  “Snowmen can’t talk.” She said it as if he really should have known that.

  “Rudolph talks.”

  “That’s because he’s a reindeer.”

  “So Rudolph is real?”

  “Yes! Don’t you watch TV?”

  I heard Mark laugh for the first time in weeks. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to talk with a five-year-old. I walked into the living room and handed a cup of cocoa to Emily and Mark.

  When the tree was finished Mark took the angel out of her box. “I think we’re getting another angel,
” I said, remembering Emily’s disappointment.

  “No,” Emily said, pointing at the tree. “God put her in charge of all these other angels so she has to be on top so she can see what they’re doing.” She took the angel from Mark and looked up at him. “Can you lift me high?” He lifted her so she could place the angel and she fussed with it till she got her straight. “There,” she said, indicating that her work was finished. I sat on the sofa to get a good look at the tree and Emily sat next to me. Mark straightened a strand of straying garland, then sat next to Emily. She was quiet and stared at the tree for the longest time. “Is that what Christmas trees look like in heaven?” she asked. Mark glanced over at me.

  “I bet they’re even more beautiful in heaven,” I said.

  “Can my mom see me right now?” She was remembering our conversation from earlier.

  “I’m sure God has parted the clouds so she can see you.”

  “She sees the tree?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she see all the angels?”

  “Yes, and she sees lots of angels in heaven.”

  “As pretty as these?”

  “Even more beautiful.”

  “Do you think she’s happy seeing me?”

  I smiled and nodded. I wondered if Sean was happy seeing what his dad and I had become?

  We had nothing in the house to eat so Mark offered to go to the grocery store. “Get some chicken,” I said. “And maybe some ground chuck and hamburger buns. I’ll need potatoes and bread, and oh, don’t forget eggs. Get some more juice and milk, too.”

  When he returned Mark’s arms were loaded with bags. He’d gotten much more than just the few items I’d mentioned. I pulled out boxes of cereal, bags of chips, blocks of cheese, a couple of boxes of crackers, soup, applesauce, several types of juices, packages of candy, and fruit galore. I put the groceries away and found a small bag filled with videos: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, and A Charlie Brown Christmas. It looked as though Mark had our evening planned for us.