White Christmas

Joey and Rachel in Aspen, Winter 2008

We've had an unheard of eleven inches of snow dumped on us in the last 24 hours. It's absolutely gorgeous, so still, so pure, so soft. I heard the snow has put Virginia in a state of emergency, but we are totally loving it. I realize it isn't such a blessing if you are a homeless person or if your power has gone out, but for those of us lucky enough to be in warm, cozy houses with blazing fires and electricity and yummy food in the oven, it's a treat and a half. We are enjoying being all together and having Rachel with us for this, our third Christmas since Joey went to Heaven. We miss him so much it hurts to think about it. The snow is a great distraction, and distraction is a helpful thing for mourners. Today everyone donned their snow clothes and built a great big, perfectly round snowman out front. When I say perfect, I mean picture perfect --Christmas card perfect. Not sloppy in any detail, and that's because we had some artists working on it (Rachel, Clare, JoAnne). It makes a difference, you know.

Our snowy Christmases always included Joey. His absence is profound. Today I just want to tell him that I love him from the depths of my mother's heart, and that I sorely miss all those times we had and wish they hadn't ended so soon. I do hope that he is having an incredible Christmas in Heaven. I suspect that they celebrate it there, in ways we can only imagine. I believe that he misses us too, and that he is gathered with his grandparents and Kit and our dog Mooshui, and Lindsey and Cody, and maybe some new friends like Baby Kaia and Angie and Katie and Sarah and Josh. I believe he prays for us, and looks forward to the day when we are all reunited. Death is a cold, hard barrier when people love each other, but I am convinced that one day the wall will come down. Our eyes will be opened as never before to a place that we have only dreamed about in our deepest heart of hearts. I can hardly wait to be together again and for the joy of hugging my beloved son.