Lying on Christmas

I lie.  Not usually but sometimes.  Sometimes it really was me that ate the cookie.  Sometimes I didn't really forget the task, I just didn't want to do it.  Sometimes,  I used to think my favorite color was red but then my sister-in-law got this groovy phone cover that is a pale aqua and I'm afraid I like that color more now.  I try not to, but simply put, sometimes I lie.

When I woke up this morning, I realized I had said a pretty big doozy of a lie last night.  I told my family that there was nothing they could do to make "this better".  I just needed to sob as I saw my brothers get the "Dad" Christmas gift that would have been my husband's too.  I wept when I saw my two little boys unable to give their Dad some fancy way to barbeque while honoring the Cowboys. I cried without my sweetheart's shoulder to snuggle against as we opened the traditional Grandma jammies.  I felt devastated, lonely and broken.

I totally and completely sunk into my misery enduring my first Christmas eve in this new widowland.  Even when my Mom's eyes filled with tears,  even when my niece wrote me a sweet card reminding me how much we are loved, even when my son wrapped his arms around me, even when my sister-in-law held me when I cried, even when my nephew shared "Uncle Jelly Beans" with me, I thought they couldn't do anything to help. Nothing would make this better.

I lied.

I woke up this morning celebrating the birth of a dear sweet Baby realizing the error in my ways.  I realize that being here with these people right now is the only help I need.  They got snow to fall at just the right time to make things better.  They helped my son put a Christmas toy together to make things better.  They laugh at all of Leonard memories to make things better.  They have a 7 year old that thinks my 13 year old is the "most awesomest" to make things better.  They light a candle in remembrance of one of the greatest men who lived to make things better.  They have a 4-month-old squishy baby to make things better.  They make things better.

I'm so glad for the whisperings from across the veil between this world and the next that helped me see I'm a liar.  The nice thing is, these people, here, right now love me even when I lie.  And that is the best Christmas gift they could ever give.  They make things better.