This Silent Night

Warm hands of children carried me today. My daughter’s fingers in mine, my son’s touch on my face, my students’ hugs. Sorrow is at my door.

My grandmother passed away last night. Grandmother Julia married my grandfather eight years after my maternal grandmother passed away. I was eight years old at their wedding. She was the only grandmother I knew on that side. Once she married my Undaddy, her name was Julia Roberts! Really! Everyone loved that. Grandmother Julia had all of Julia Roberts’ movies, too. She led a long, happy life. She gave my Undaddy so much joy in his last days. I still get a whiff of their house sometimes when I am cooking. (Not that my cooking comes close to hers!) After being twice widowed, she took joy in her children, grandchildren, and church. She was a good woman, and she was very sick. She is now out of pain and discomfort and in a place of light and peace.

Sorrow keeps knocking, though. Because I hadn’t actually seen my grandmother in a long time. And I didn’t get to say goodbye. I was going to go see her this morning, but then I got the call that she had already passed away. I hope she knows I love her.

I hear a click in the lock. Wind creeps in through the crack in the door. My friend had a miscarriage yesterday. My heart drops a little. I think of my own little one that I lost at 10 weeks back in 2004. Was it a boy or a girl? Did it somehow sense me, its mother, in those 10 weeks? Now my friend will wonder. She will count the days for a while, on the due date stop to grieve over the life that didn’t last.

Colorful lights blaze. A man in red smiles from windows. Each night my children open a little door on the calendar. Why, during what should be a joyful time, must sadness visit?

To my grandmothers and grandfathers, to my brother, to my lost baby, and to the dear baby of my friend –

Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace