A Christmas Wish, Part 2

The closing weeks of 2014 has been rough – very rough – for one of my dearest friends, and as many have tried and are trying to give her consoling words, I know there is nothing that can really take away from the fact that Death came knocking on her family’s door, unannounced and uninvited. My heart’s been on the heavy side for her since Thanksgiving when all this chaos began, and it’s heavier still so close to Christmas as a life has ended and the pain for the surviving family truly begins.

This one’s for you, Mr. Deward “Babe” Reed, and the Reed family.


Dear Friend,

Some things are just too much to describe in a story. Others are just too detailed for a poem or a song. However, a letter is a form of art in itself, and I do believe it would benefit you most to experience my words in this form, as I, myself, am unsure how to approach this matter. I’m overwhelmed with emotions for you, my friend, which is why it’s difficult to use few and flowery words.

You’ve always been so vulnerable yet so strong in all the years we’ve known each other. I’ve seen you falter from a misstep in health, but you’ve always bounced back. I’ve watched you stutter in your career, but you’ve always managed to rise and seek greater truths beyond your scope. I’ve watched you get slapped by Cupid, but even then, you managed to get the last laugh. Yet, this year is different.

I know you’ve never fully healed from the loss of your mother, and I’ve witnessed the struggle through the years. When you found your equal, your column, your rock, I saw the struggle shrink and diminish. I was so happy that I danced inside! However, my dancing feet has halted for this year is different.

While many (including myself) celebrate this Winter Holiday – whether it be Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza – a part of me shall mourn with you and yours. Though the bond was shaky and at most civil rather than divine, tears of loss and missing pieces will be shared from your Coast to my Coast. After all, blood is blood, and I know the feeling of being so empty during a holiday full of celebration and merriment.

This Christmas, as I tend to my stoves and ovens and share in the Holiday cheer, I wish you find peace and comfort in those around you with their arms open for loving embraces, their ears open to listen to your words, their shoulders to cry on. I wish for your husband to stand firm as a mighty oak during the difficult and draining of days to come. For your step-mom, I wish for the universe to comfort and console her, as her little world has come crashing on her.

There are no words anyone (including myself) can say to truly erase the pain that’s been dealt or ease the hurt that is yet to come, but I pray you take some comfort in knowing that you are loved, not by a loyal few, but by many who have been privileged enough to call you their friend and sister (including myself).


Your Friend & Sister

© Elle Short Stack Story Time 2014

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1 Response to A Christmas Wish, Part 2

  1. Sister says:

    I love you, my sister. Thank you.

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