Silent Night, Holy Sh*t

I'm feeling lost. I'll tell you why, if you don't mind listening to an old guy rant. My dear wife of 48 years, Elizabeth, passed away almost a year ago, right after Christmas. She was my life. My all. I was sure we'd make it 50 years together, but alas, it wasn't meant to be.

Silent night

Here it is, coming up on Christmas again, and without my Lizzie around, everything is so quiet. Too quiet. When I turn on the TV, it's no fun watching Christmas shows without her. I miss her head on my shoulder, her hair tickling my face. Her laughter. Her singing. Her tears. Her commentary. Even her breathing.

Too quiet.

Lizzie, my love, I miss you.

Holy night

Another day stretches out before me. It's Christmas Eve now. I have to do something. We used to go to the candlelight service at the church three blocks away. Perhaps that will do me some good.

I spend the day looking at photo albums of happy times.

My best suit smells a bit musty, but I spray some stuff I've seen Lizzie use, and it does the trick. I prepare a microwave meal before changing. I give myself plenty of time since I'm not as fast as I once was.

The walk feels good. The air is cold but not uncomfortably so. The lights on the houses I pass serve to lift my spirits for a bit, and then I feel guilty for not putting any up. I sigh. Next year, I'll do it up right.

There are lots of cars in the church parking lot, and more arriving. People greet with handshakes or hugs, and I hear children giggling. One boy finds a pile of snow that hadn't melted from last week's fall. He promptly throws at snowball at a girl, who shrieks and runs away. These sounds are music to my lonely ears.

I am greeted at the door warmly by an usher, who hands me a bulletin and a candle. The church is lit up with white lights, and I smell pine from the garland hanging on the side aisles. I sit in the back, ready to rest after walking.

All is calm (?)

The service is lovely. I don't sing as well as Lizzie used to, but I add my voice to the mix, nevertheless. Peace washes over me.

Until I look up and see a skeleton in the pulpit.

What?

Since when did Christmas and Halloween combine? The skeleton seems to be looking right at me and trying to talk, but all I hear are chattering teeth. He pounds his bony fist on the pulpit- perhaps in frustration- which promptly makes his hand shatter and spray bone fragments all over the floor. It's then that I notice I'm the only one in the church now. I try to stand up, but my body won't cooperate. The skeleton continues to pound the pulpit with remaining bones, until there is nothing left to pound.

Then, a dark figure floats into his place. I'm not sure if it's an angel of death or the grim reaper himself. Why are these Halloween characters ruining my Christmas Eve? I feel like screaming, but my voice won't work either.

This character has a deep, resonating voice, words drawn out like he had no hurry in the world. "Yooouuu, MMMaaarrrrk. Yooouuu wwwiiilll beee mmmiiine."

I try to scream, "Nooo!" unsuccessfully.

All is bright

Then, a blinding light shines throughout the church. It immediately snaps me out of my inability to move. I cover my eyes and still see the light through my palm.

A calmer, comforting voice calls, "Mark."

The light fades enough for me to open my eyes. A glowing figure stands before me. I ask, "Are you God?"

"Indeed I am. You are having a heart attack. I have come to determine what to do with you."

"If I have any say..."

"You will, but let me start by saying that you shouldn't have treated Elizabeth so cruelly those years ago."

"I know. That has haunted me since."

"I am aware."

Round yon virgin mother and child

A scene that was already burned into my brain appears before me. It is young Elizabeth holding our stillborn child, tears streaming down her face.

"She needed you. She was young and innocent."

"I couldn't take the pain." I feel the sting of salty water saturating my cheeks. "I had asked her to go hiking with me that day. If we had stayed home, she would have gotten help earlier. Maybe our child would have survived. She wasn't due for three weeks. I didn't know. It's all my fault. I had to get away just then."

"She needed you, and you walked out."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I've never been sorrier for anything else in my life. I told her so." I'm sobbing so hard that I can scarcely breathe.

Holy infant, so tender and mild

Elizabeth holds the baby towards me. It opens its eyes and touches my chest. Sharp pain courses through my body.

"What's happening?" I shriek after the worst of the pain subsides.

"They are attempting to revive you, but we're not done with our little chat. You do know that murder is one of the worst sins, right?"

"Yes, but I was following her wishes. She wanted to die. I wanted to help stop her suffering. I didn't want her to go, but she pleaded with me to help, and I couldn't deny her that."

"Do you repent?"

"Yes, but I would do it again. For her. It was for her."

"Do you wish to go on living?"

"No."

"Very well."

Sleep in heavenly peace

I feel my life drain away.

I feel calm. Content.

I am forbidden from telling you about heaven.

Perhaps you will learn about it in due time.

At last, I can

Sleep in heavenly peace

*

Author's note: The tune for Stille Nacht (Silent Night) was written in Austria by Franz Gruber to go with lyrics written by Father Joseph Mohr. The organ had broken, so that first performance in 1818 was simply guitar and voice.