Hey Superman...

Hey Superman,

I miss you.

I took Christmas down yesterday, and finished putting everything away today. I gently removed your ornaments from your tree, and the ones from the big tree in the main room. 

And I cried.

Everything neat, everything clean, everything ready for the new year, another new year without you.

I remember your strength, your super power of working through the pain, your smile, your giggle. 

I remember your penguins dancing on the ceiling and how we'd turn them off at night so you would finally close your eyes and sleep.

Now your earthly eyes are closed. 

What do you see with your heavenly eyes?

Do you see me?

Do you lend me some of your super strength?

Gramma also loved Christmas: the lights, the gifts, the joy, the music. She loved celebrating the Savior. 

When I was tiny, she painted a Santa that became a core Christmas memory for us children. Because you can't divide a ceramic object six ways, she spent a full year looking for that Santa for each of us. She added her own touches to each one, painting her love for us on them. I wrapped mine carefully, gently and placed him in a box until next year.

Many (most?) of my ornaments come from her. She and Grampa started giving each of us an ornament when I was about eight or nine, and that continued through last year. This is the first year I can remember that she didn't send me an ornament... 

But my brother did. 

We have a saying that when you give a gift that makes someone cry (in a good way), you "win" Christmas. He did. 

Two bells about my angels watching over me in heaven.

Aaron, this hurts, this really hurts. I pushed through putting things away, grateful for the physical pain that distracts me (sorta) from the emotional anguish. I miss you and Gramma so much!!

I see the morning sunrise, your crystal angel in my car refracting the light into rainbows. The snow that comes and covers your grave. Thursday night, I watched as the butterflies danced in the wind, their shadows flitting across your stone as the spotlight illuminated it. 

It seems so strange that this is my life now. It's been just over two years. My second Christmas (okay, technically third) without you. My first (again, really the second) without Gramma. You both left me so close to Christmas that it didn't feel real at the time. 

And so many, many more to go...

I miss you.

Love,
Mama

"Heroes never die.
They live on forever in the hearts and minds of those who follow in their footsteps."

Emily Potter