The box of Christmas ornaments hidden away for so long spilled onto the floor; memories flooded back, two adult children taken from me. Frozen in time, I picked up the handmade treasures; paper, ribbon, bits and pieces of love formed into special ornaments that these children made for me when they were children.
Tonight I sit, a wounded soul and I write a letter that I have not written since I myself was a child.
Dear Santa Clause,
There are just a few wishes this year on my list. Leave me a sign that my children know how much they are missed. Leave me a box of magic needles and thread to mend my heart so that I may find a reason to get out of bed . Maybe a bag of Christmas Spirit filled with love that eases the pain of what I lost to Heaven above. Do you still remember me Santa after all of these years; do you remember how your gifts could take away my tears? I know that I have ask for a lot, but can I have a reason to live tied up in a shiny new box; four years…a long time to grieve, please Santa with all my heart I want to believe.
This is such a beautiful and touching piece from Anne Johnson Murphree, a writer who lost her children. The link below connects you with her blog and more heartwarming pieces.