Trees are placed in stands, lights are strung, and decorations are put in place.Stockings are hung, carols are sung, and smiles are on most faces. Christmas is here.

However, there are many who have nothing to smile about. They sit in their homes alone or alone with their children. They’re missing an ornament this year – a loving spouse and parent.

My wife, Ginny, and I experienced the pain. We know what those special occasions mean. If you’ve lost a spouse, there are dates on the calendar that hurt. Ginny

and I still see them coming: the day we met them, wedding anniversaries, birthdays,holidays, and many more. They are markers in our journey through life. They’re asteroids

drifting through space on a crash course with our emotions. We try to hide from them, butthere is no hiding. They’re coming! They’re going to hit! We close our eyes and brace ourselves.

Most times they’re just a shooting star. It burns out before it hits. There’s a twinge, like a needle in the arm, and it’s over. The fear of its arrival is worse than the actual hit.

There are other days on the calendar. They’re not marked. Those are the ones we have to watch for. We have no idea what they’ll bring. We look for the marked days and ignore the unmarked ones. We get careless. Unmarked days strike without warning.

One day I was moving from one location in my office to another. I was packing my stuff in a box. On a top shelf I felt something. Dust drifted in the air as I lifted it.It was a card from my first wife. She gave it to me for Valentines the year before she died.

“Happy Valentines! I love you!”

It was signed, “Georgia.”

I left work early that day. I was useless. An asteroid got through and nailed me. One night, we were watching the show “ER.” Ginny left the room during one of. he scenes. A few minutes later, her daughter, Heather, came to me. “Mike, Mom’s crying in the kitchen.”

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked and stood up.

“I don’t know. You better check.” she said.

I walked into the kitchen. Ginny was turned from me. She used the sink to support herself. Her shoulders shook. I put my arms around her, pulled her close, and held her  tight. “Sweetie? What’s wrong.”

She turned to me and put her head to my chest. The sobs subsided long enough  or her to say, “Mike, it was that guy.”

“What guy?” I asked.

“The guy on ‘ER.’ He was dieing. The look in his eyes was the one I saw on Harvey’s face. He was rushed to the hospital. Terror filled his eyes. He knew the end was near. Michael, I saw it all again. That man on ‘ER’ had the same look.” She stopped, allowed me to hold her, and slowly regained her composure.

Grief sneaks in when we least expect it. It doesn’t have to be a card or a television show. It can be a note tucked in a book, an old letter, a photo, or a scent of the cologne or perfume they used to wear. They trigger memories. We relive our life with them and remember the day they left. The pain returns.

Music is a trigger. I remember the song they played when I first danced with Georgia. The song became “our” song. There were many songs Georgia and I related to. They were special songs at great moments during our life together. WhenI hear one of them now, my heart breaks and tears form in my eyes.

This is what we experience, but what about the kids? It’s their first loss and it’s a big one. It’s like a slap. It’s unexpected, surprising, confusing, and very hurtful. A spanking would be more welcome to them.

How do the parents their children happy? They just lost a spouse. Where do they find the strength for their children, when they struggle to get through it themselves?

As adults,  we’ve experienced it before. It may not be as painful as losing a spouse, but during our travel through life, we experienced grief. We’ve lost a grandfather, an uncle, or other relative. It prepared us for the loss of a spouse.

Little kids have never experienced a loss close to this magnitude of losing a parent. Their young lives change. They’re scared. They want their parent back. Death is new to them. Mom or dad is gone on a trip will return soon. The surviving parent has to put on a strong face and support them.

At Christmas, Ginny and I host a party for the local members of our widow and widower’s group. This party is for those who have young children. The children tear at my heart. They lost a mommy or a daddy. Their Christmas’ are changed forever.  I dress as Santa and hand little gifts to them. I worry one of them will ask Santa,

“Can you bring my Mommy/Daddy back?”

What would I say?

The answer I prepared and, thankfully, never had to use, “God needs angels for special duties. When he needs more angels, he looks down on earth and selects people to help him. Your Mommy/Daddy must have been very special, because he called them up to be an angel. You should be proud.

"The best thing is, because they’re angels, they have the power to look down and protect you all the time. They’re always with you. You can’t see them, but if you close your eyes and pray to them, you’ll feel them, and maybe even hear them whispering in your ear. 

I hope I never have to use that story, but if I do, I pray it works and God will hear and take care of  the little ones.

We have “Special Days and Painful Memories, but please take care of the little ones.

Michael T. Smith