The Irreverent Widow

by Sandi Amorello

The spirit of Christmas is not frightened off.  Not even by white lab coats and oxygen tanks.  Much like the lesson bestowed upon us all in the beloved Dr. Seuss story, “The Grinch,” Christmas doesn’t come from a box.  It comes from the heart.  And, whether you want it to or not…it will even follow you into the hospital.  Through the revolving door…up the elevator…down the long, lonely corridors with the cold, fluorescent lighting.  It will.   It doesn’t feel right…that it should be there.  In a place filled with the scent of disinfectants and bad food…instead of balsam and gingerbread.

Well, it wasn’t the presence of the spirit of Christmas that bothered me, so much as the presence of wreaths and little elves purchased at church fairs and jingle bells hanging from hospital doorknobs.  It was sad.  It was depressing.  It was just wrong.  To me, anyway.

Now…maybe some people would still be cheered by the whole message of Christmas.  Maybe the tacky decorations would be a reminder of that message.  Providing some sort of strangely comforting, uplifting feeling.  For me…it was just the opposite.  It did not comfort me. It did not uplift me. It sickened me and saddened me and made me want to toss our vintage family crèche into the fireplace…along with the Yule log.

Our middle son was in the first grade when his father was in the hospital…battling those final weeks of cancer.  His classmates made a chain.  A bright, colorful, happy chain…out of construction paper.  Full of individual Christmas wishes.  “Merry Christmas Mr. Amorello”…”We hope you feel better soon, Mr. Amorello”…”We love you, Holden’s Dad.”  Wishes of hope and holiday spirit…announced in crayon …across carefully cut strips of colored paper from an educational art supply store.  Happy…lovely…heartfelt thoughts that could only be written by 6 year olds.  Children who didn’t know what cancer was.  Children who didn’t know that, as they prepared for another happy Christmas with their daddies…their classmate was preparing for the final Christmas with his.  The paper chain of well wishes that my son brought to the hospital for his father…the paper chain that we hung from Drew’s singular hospital window…the paper chain that I would save for years…until I finally had to throw it away, because I could no longer tolerate the pain it evoked, each time I stumbled upon it.   The lump of construction paper sentiment that stuck in my throat and seemed to want to choke me.  Only a child could hang that above his father’s deathbed.  Only a child could do that, without tears.

One of my favorite quotes says “It is good to be a child sometimes…and never better than at Christmas.”  I am here to tell you…that is true.  Thank goodness for children.

© 2007 Sandi Amorello/Silver Crayon Studios, Inc.  All rights reserved.
The Irreverent Widow, Silver Crayon Studios and the SC Studios mark are all trademarks of Silver Crayon Studios, Inc.