This hollow spot in my heart will never heal, but after the last few weeks with Coop, I feel a little like the tree outside. I can grow around the wound. It will never be gone, but what I can become is all the more unique—more beautiful—because of it.
I open my closet and pull down a box from the top shelf. My mom bought and wrapped Christmas sweaters for us for the next … I don’t know how many years. Dad gave the boys theirs the day after Thanksgiving, but I skipped out. Just like I skipped out on decorating the tree and the house and going to see Christmas lights. And just like I missed Christmas Adam with Mom’s family. At least I can blame the storm for that one.
But I don’t want to miss out on anything else. That’s not what she’d want for any of us. Nothing made Mom happier thanbeing with her family. I felt the same way once, and I felt it again yesterday.
Nothing makes me happier than being with my family.
The fact that Coop was also here …
I can’t think that far ahead. The very possibility sets off an excited flurry in my chest.
I unwrap the gorgeous red and white twine bow and kraft paper Mom always put around our presents. The idea of her making sure we always have new Christmas sweaters makes me smile. I can imagine her lovingly picking each out. Making sure they were all carefully, beautifully wrapped. Gift after gift after gift.
But … my mom didn’t wrap this. She couldn’t have. She wasn’t able to wrap for years.
This was my dad.
My heart grows three sizes thinking of my big, beefy dad, of his huge hands doing such delicate work, and all because of his love for his wife. For his kids. Forme.
I am so lucky.
I pull the twine, open the crisp white Kraft paper, and then look at the simple “Love, Mom” note that my dad copied from a card she wrote one of us years ago.
I pull the tissue paper off the sweater and laugh in shock.
Liesel
YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT CHRISTMAS SWEATER MY MOM GOT ME!
I snap a picture, laughing with tears streaming down my face. It’s an ugly gray sweatshirt featuring a calico kitten sitting in a stocking wearing a Santa hat. Beneath the kitten in a festive script, it reads “The stockings were hung by the chimney with cats.”
It’s Juliet’s sweater!
Her response is immediate:
Juliet
Lee! *sob face emoji*
*angel emoji*
*Twin emoji*
I hold the sweater to my chest and laugh, letting happy tears pour down my face. How can Mom be gone and still be with me?
I put the sweater on over my pajamas and look at my reflection in the closet mirror. My hair’s a mess and I have no makeup on, but my smile …
I look happy.
Ifeelhappy.
How it’s possible to miss her so much and be so happy is a mystery I don’t know if I’ll ever solve. But maybe it has something to do with gratitude. Gratitude that she loved me so much.
I hug my arms tightly around myself.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper. “I love it.”
I check the time. It’s 7:12 a.m. I tiptoe out of my room and downstairs. My brothers probably set their alarm for 7:30 on the dot, because they like sleep, but they’re also basically big, dumb children. My slippers land softly on the floor as I pass Dad’s office and stop at the cracked door to the guest room. The sun is just about to peek over the horizon, and it’s letting in enough light through the blinds to show that Coop isn’t in bed. The light is off in the guest bathroom, too.
