First Christmas

     It's a strange feeling, ushering in a new year without one of my daughters.  I never could have imagined it--getting through such a thing.  How do you go shopping for Christmas presents when one of us is missing, or open gifts, or have Christmas dinner, or take pictures...how do I keep myself, my family, walking into the new year with hope, joy, and faith.
     As is often the case, my daughters, my sons-in-law, my husband all came through and provided the answers.  My first instinct was to stay home and just absorb the pain--but my second daughter, Asha, had a better idea: a visit to New Orleans to see her husband's family and friends.  
     We left at sunrise and by afternoon, I was in another world:

   

Peter and I had never been to New Orleans--it is a beautiful city filled with the lingering echo of loss and yet a clear renewal of spirit.  Within the water, the buildings, the signs I could release a bit of my own pain and let it be healed, even just a little, by the prayers and dreams of the city.

      
      


   

   

 And just as I had always told my girls, there is a Santa--he managed to follow us to New Orleans, even if he did have to draw a soap Christmas tree on the mirror:
 
 

      My son-in-law's mother, father, aunt, uncles, cousins, brothers, sister, and numerous friends and their families all accepted us as their own.  And in their smiles, I found hope, joy, and faith.

 

(Happy New Year, Annie--Mwah!)