It’s 4:00 pm on Christmas Eve and I sit alone with a freshly brewed cup of coffee feeling melancholy.

To start with our Christmas Eve tradition with family hasn’t happened in a couple of years now. Times they are changing and adapting is what I’ve concentrated on most this year. Relaxing my expectations and going with the flow.  

I shouldn’t be feeling so melancholy especially on Christmas Eve of all times, but I am.

One tradition that hasn’t changed is our cookie drop offs. We pack up cookies for some very dear friends and spend a couple evenings taking the treats with our holiday card from home to home. Over the years the list has shrunk and next year it will again.

Sharing this next little bit will have tears stinging the back of my eyes and will hurt to put into words and I fear by sharing it it makes it all too real. I lost a dear friend yesterday.

Grief is this all-consuming emotion that when it happens the stages of it just keep coming. Denial was my first one, then sadness. And the sadness just kept on coming. My heart selfishly ached as I cried for the loss of such a good friend. My eyes grew puffy and I went through several tissues. Then the sadness lessened as I realized what this meant for him. This friend is a man who lost the love of his life almost two years ago. He did his best without her and kept their love alive by remembering her. 

On Saturday, December 18^th Dave and I went over with our tin of hand frosted cookies. His son greeted us at the door and since it was after 7:00 pm our friend was in his pajamas. The best way to describe this moment is to feel it. His smile filled his face, his arms opened wide and although we joked about a pajama party the happiness he felt upon our arrival was shared. I stepped into his arms and hugged him tight, wishing him a Merry Christmas while Dave talked to his son. I then proceeded to remove my shoes by the door and get comfy on the sofa where his wife always sat in previous years. We settled in for a visit covering all the major events and then started talking of the surgery he was having on Wednesday. He had bladder cancer and made no bones about what it involved and told us what his other alternative was. We moved onto to other subjects and eventually it was time to be headed home, our new puppy needed to be let out.

I got to the door and put my shoes back on. Dave followed suit and continued talking. As I stood next to this man who has become like family I felt his hand slip into mine. I laced our fingers together and he squeezed them tight. This is a house of cooks and we’ve never left empty handed before and that night was no different. We were given a cool whip container full of meatballs and just like that it was time to say good bye. I hugged my friend tight and whispered in his ear “I love you” which he returned then Dave and I walked out the door. As always, He stood there watching us pull away and offered us one last wave. Our annual visit had come to an end.

Wednesday came and went and although we didn’t hear how everything went we prayed and assumed no news was good news. Thursday morning the son came in the store with a report that the surgery went well but the night back at home was a little rocky.

My consolation is that I know where my friend is and who he is with and that makes me cry happy tears. The two of them back together. He got his Christmas wish.

Garth, thank you. Thank you for your friendship, for the jokes, for always supporting my writing and for sharing with us your beautiful love story. Tell Harriett hi for us and give her another hug. We pray we’ll get to see you again.

To everyone else: hold your loved ones close and tell them you love them, you never know when if you’ll get another chance.