For the last three months, Christy had been almost back to her old self. She would never truly be that woman again, but at least she was trying. The six months before that, she'd been lost, lost in the house where she lived alone, lost in a life that had gone from happy to more agony than she'd ever felt before.
Surely living did not mean so much pain. It wasn't the ache of a muscle or a throbbing in her head. It was an ache deep inside what a poet would have called her heart, though Christy didn't feel the ache in her chest. She felt it in her mind, and she felt the agony all day long.
It would have been their first Christmas together. They'd bought an artificial tree and enough ornaments to hang from nearly every branch. The lights looked like tiny stars amongst the branches when the rest of the room lights were out, and there were enough of them she could see Ted's face when he kissed her before he left.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, but it shouldn't take more than hour. I'll just slip down there, reset the server, and come right home. Keep the eggnog cold and we'll toast when I get back. No peeking at your gift while I'm gone, OK?"
Christy hadn't understood why some stupid server just absolutely had to run on Christmas Eve. Nobody in the world worked on Christmas Eve, except apparently, the company her husband worked for.
An hour had turned into an hour and a half. Christy called Ted's cell phone to see what had happened. She counted ten rings before a voice said the party she was calling was unavailable and she would be transferred to voicemail.
After two hours, Christy tried again with the same results. She was mad then. They'd planned to begin a private tradition by exchanging presents and then making love on Christmas Eve. It was ten o'clock and they wouldn't have time to do much before going to bed. They had the four-hour drive to her parent's house to make the next morning, and they had to be there by eleven.
At eleven fifteen, there was a knock on her door. Christy looked through the peep hole and saw a police officer. She opened the door and felt tears welling in her eyes when she saw his face. He didn't smile when he asked if he could come in.
The officer began with, "Mrs. Hastings, I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, but your husband was in a car accident tonight. Can you come with me?"
Christy had leaned against the doorframe and couldn't move. She looked at the officer.
"Are you taking me to the hospital he's in?"
His answer stunned Christy harder than if he'd hit her with his fist.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hastings, but your husband isn't in a hospital."
"My husband's not...no, that can't be. He's coming home so we can have Christmas Eve."
The officer looked at her with kind, sad eyes and his voice was soft.
"Mrs. Hastings...I was there. The EMT's tried as hard as I've ever seen them try, but they couldn't do enough. He passed away at the scene. The uh...the coroner needs you to make a positive identification."
The next week was a blur to Christy. She'd gone to the city morgue that night and seen Ted lying on a table. The officer asked if there was somebody she could call to stay with her for a few days. She'd called Kathy, her sister, at one on Christmas morning and through the sobs, had explained what had happened. Kathy had said she'd be there in an hour.
Christy was thankful Kathy had dropped everything because she didn't know what she needed to do or how she needed to do it. After talking with her until six that morning, Kathy finally got her into bed and told her to sleep, then called a funeral home and arranged for Ted's body to be picked up the day after Christmas.
On Christmas Day, she had cried on Kathy's shoulder most of the morning and sat staring at the Christmas tree while Kathy called all the other family members to explain why she and Christy wouldn't be with them. As Christy stared at the branches adorned with the colorful lights and the figures of colorful glass globes, angels, reindeer and icicles, she began to hate the tree, hate it because it was a symbol of happiness when she felt devastated. It was a sneering bright light in a world that had turned black. It was mocking the way she felt by reminding her of Ted and what should have been. It shouldn't be there looking so happy and pleased with itself, not when her heart had been torn out. She stood up, walked to the tree and pulled it over, then began stomping the lights and ornaments into shards. Kathy ran up and hugged her.
"Christy, stop. You aren't helping yourself and it won't change anything."
"Then take it down and get it out of my house. I can't look at it anymore."
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The minister who had conducted Ted's funeral had tried to explain it to her. He said sometimes things happen that seem cruel and that seem to make no sense, but they eventually do and always have a purpose. The funeral was supposed to bring closure so she could get on with her life. He said some other things about faith and moving ahead, but Christy wasn't listening. How could there be any sense in taking Ted away from her so soon. How could there be any purpose in taking him away on Christmas Eve?
Kathy had held her hand through the service, and at the grave. Christy didn't cry a lot. She was just numb. She still felt that way when Kathy got into her car and drove away two days later. She didn't feel the closure the minister had talked about. All she felt was alone.
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As the months passed, Christy began finding herself again. At first, she wasn't very talkative to anyone, and most nights she fell asleep with tears in her eyes and the question, "Why", on her mind.
At Kathy's suggestion, she reluctantly loaded up all Ted's clothes and donated them to a local charity. When she didn't have to look at them in their closet, she didn't think of him every time she went into their bedroom.
She'd felt better after that, so she spent a weekend collecting everything that would remind her of Ted and donated it as well. The only things she couldn't bring herself to part with were the diamond earrings she'd found when she finally opened Ted's Christmas gift, her wedding and engagement rings, and their wedding album. The earrings and wedding rings she put in a box and put the box in the back of her sweater drawer. The book of pictures and guest signatures she put on the top shelf in the coat closet in the hall. After another month, she'd almost forgotten them.
She had a slight setback on their wedding anniversary in June, but that passed quickly. By September, she was smiling again and joking at work. Nights were usually a movie on TV after dinner and then bed.
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On the first of October, Christy was shopping for groceries and turned her cart from the main aisle into the frozen food section. Her cart slammed into another, and once she'd pulled it back, looked up to apologize.
He was about her age, tall with dark brown hair and a kind face, and he was smiling.
"I'm sorry. I was looking at the frozen dinners and didn't see you coming."
Christy couldn't help but smile back and then chuckle.
"It wasn't you. It was me who wasn't looking where I was going."
"Well, I shouldn't leave my cart where it was, so I'm as just as responsible. Are you OK?"
"Yes, it was just our carts that bumped."
He smiled that smile again.
"Well that's good. You have a great day."
Christy smiled to herself as she pushed the cart. The man had made her feel good about herself in some way. She wasn't sure what that way was, but she felt happy.
The next Saturday, she turned her grocery cart into produce and stopped just before it hit another cart. The same man walked up to the other cart and put a head of lettuce in the basket. When he saw her, he grinned.
"It's you again. Are you following me or something?"
Christy felt the warmth on her shoulders as she blushed.
