Home is where your Heart is…at least that’s what they say

On Christmas Eve we traveled,

Through the cold wet snow,

We always stopped at a gas station,

To make sure the tank wasn’t too low.

We were all dressed nicely,

Beneath the coats and scarves,

We had brought our appetites,

And gifts that filled the car.

When we walked into your house,

We left our boots wet at the door,

We were greeted under the mistletoe,

And put the presents on the floor.

The house was warm with cooking,

And the inviting smell of food,

Cookies were passed around,

And everyone felt good.

You decorated the house,

With such loving care,

You made that place a loving space,

Filled with memories we’ve all shared.

Now that you have passed,

The house is not same.

There’s no knickknacks on the walls,

We’re not playing silly games.

There is no more holiday parties,

Or hugs beneath the mistletoe,

Just white rooms with messed up blinds.

In a place that felt like home.

I’m not sure if it was the house,

Or how you made it be,

The safe space that it was,

For our family.

Home is where your heart is,

At least that’s what they say,

Part of my heart is in Heaven then,

Since you’ve passed away.