Couples with children at home started leaving the party. I finished the last sip of Grand Marnier from my crystal snifter, reached for my soft red wool tartan scarf and wrapped it tightly around my neck.
It had been a good Christmas Eve with lots of friends, prime rib with Yorkshire pudding, pecan pie, and sing along caroling. Silent Night has always been our favorite... my favorite. Stephanie, my wife, passed on five years ago tonight. She had caught a fatal case of double pneumonia and by the time I got her to the Petosky Community Hospital forty miles away, it was too late. Infection had ravaged her frail body and she was tired of fighting. It was a very sad Christmas that year. Our son Robert and I were left to fend for our selves. It wasn’t easy tending the farm and the household chores but somehow we made it and in the process became very close.
Robert graduated with honors from Landers High School this past summer and went off to Georgia Tech with a full debate team scholarship. He was blessed with Stephanie’s intelligence and good looks and my logical brain.
I was not looking forward to being truly alone this Christmas; Robert went on a Colorado ski trip with some of his new college friends. It was hard letting go. We both had been through a lot in the last five years. But sometimes, you just need to let go, for their sake, so they can create their own lives. I cried the September night he left for college. It had been almost five years since I cried that much. Stephanie added so much to our lives. That special woman’s touch, nesting in the house, the special aromas at dinnertime. We used to stand around and sing while she played the old upright piano. And her special Hawaiian Pikake perfume. You could close your eyes and hear the exotic birds and smell the warm, moist jungle air. Her soft caresses and lovemaking on cold winter nights all snuggled up in our king-size bed with the warm down comforter clasped tightly around our necks. Her moist lips touching mine. Kisses to die for. Five years had been an eternity and yet only seemed like yesterday.
I grabbed my Zebtek coat, zipped it up tightly and put on my leather gloves. It was bitter cold out tonight but at least there was no wind.
Marlene and John had invited us to their farm every Christmas Eve for the past 10 years. In such a small community, you get to know your neighbors; our farms touched at the north pasture. During fall harvest, John and I would help each other until midnight for two straight weeks. This past fall was an especially hardy corn crop. Marlene and Stephanie had both graduated from The University of Michigan the same year but did not know each other until we bought the farm next door. They became very close and some nights would stay up until almost sunrise, giggling like little girls and talking about their college days. Stephanie and I met in college at a fraternity party. Some say there is nothing called love-at-first-sight but it truly was. Neither of us had dated very much and were ready to settle down and raise a family. Robert was born three years later. We had a very difficult time getting pregnant; I had a problem with motility and after Robert, it was impossible to build any more family. But Robert kept us busy with his practical jokes and science fair projects.
Marlene and John gave me a warm hug goodbye. They knew this year was difficult for me and it was difficult for them, too.
I trudged out into the cold night. There was a full moon and a sky full of stars. It had snowed for the past four days and every step I took made a cold crunchy sound. I made it to the woods and followed what was a path, prior to the heavy snow. It was so quiet. No airplanes, no car sounds, no barking dogs. Nothing but silence and my crunching. I stopped for a minute to listen to the silence and to look up in to the night sky. My breath drifted upward and moisture froze to my mustache. "Stephanie, I miss you very much. Life has been difficult without you by my side. Some day we will be together, again".
At that very moment there was a crashing just ahead on the left. I was so startled. The silence had come to an abrupt end. From out of between two pine trees, a doe sprinted across the path. I stood paralyzed. The deer looked my way and stopped in her tracks. For what felt like five minutes, we both just stood there and stared in to each other’s eyes. Hers were a deep brown contrasted with pure white fur. It was as if we had met before. There was a familiar feeling, closeness, and a bond. "Stephanie?" There was no response. I could feel goose bumps crawling up my back and both arms. How special this encounter was, just the two of us, both trying to survive the winter and the loneliness. Both alone but together. Both sharing this moment. The goose bumps were replaced with memories of Stephanie’s warm caresses. She had been truly with me these past five years. I could almost hear her breathe those long breaths, as I would watch her fall asleep after making love with her hair amiss on the pillow.
The silence was again shattered as the doe darted and continued on her journey. I started walking down the path with tree twig shadows, the full moon, and the stars. Boot tracks were following behind. It wasn’t lonely out there after all. I reminded myself to put out some hay the next day for the forest animals.
We must take care of each other in this world. We cannot live separately alone. Stephanie, you will be in my heart forever. I will feel your closeness, your caress, your labored breathing. Stephanie, I love you more than ever.
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