Christmas Changed Forever

CHRISTMAS CHANGED FOREVER

                   Nineteen Hundred and Eighty---the morning of Christmas Eve,
                   Father was planning to visit, but suddenly had to leave.
                   How could we have guessed or known
                   ---While speaking there upon the phone,
                   As Mother cautioned they might be late---
                   Of the coming, shadowed fate?
                   "Why, he went to work the day before;
                   It's just his neck that's feeling sore.
                   Oh . . . a toothache bothered him last night;
                   We'll stop at the clinic to make sure he's all right."
                   Then anxiously a ringing phone, to my ear was later drawn;
                   And Mother's quaking voice broke out, "Sandra . . . he's already gone!"

                   Christmas Morn brought mixed emotions
                   Of pretended joy and sad devotions.
                   From the hollow promise of rejoice,
                   Trapped within a muffled voice,
                   Like gaping wrappers torn apart,
                   So was each empty, tattered heart.
                   I remembered him young and having fun,
                   Before the graying had begun,
                   The way he had laughed and the way he had smiled,
                   Way back when . . . when I was a child.
                   Our trembling words betrayed the meaningless laughter;
                   Christmas Day was not the same, nor would it be thereafter.

                   Deep within my heart now echoes a mournful beat,
                   Each year like ancient burial drums that offer dull repeat.
                   Time has passed while sorrows grow mild---but then,
                   These painful, haunting questions I ask myself again:
                   "Why did it happen so quick? How could he die?"
                   I never got the chance to say good-bye.
                   Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
                   Can never replace what he meant to me;
                   But then I offer up a solemn, silent prayer,
                   To let him know how much I really truly care.
                   One comforting thought envelops me although I'm feeling blue,
                   For now I see that Jesus needed a Christmas present, too.

---Sandra Hookham
(horsetrainer)