WOW Gal Angel
   Wendy Martina May Fraser

As I descend through the sky I see the sun is shining brightly and reflecting off the glistening, white snow. The Muskoka air is crisp and cool. 

Christmas carols can be heard ringing through the clear winter air. People are walking with a joyful lilt to their step. Smiles linger on their faces as they look forward to the wonderful Christmas season. 

As evening descends upon the town of Huntsville, the bright, colourful Christmas lights illuminate the trees and houses along the street. Red, green, and yellow blend together to make a wonderful array of cheerful celebration.
As I float indoors, I see that Mommy is baking a delicious spread of pies, cookies, cakes and chocolates. The aroma of cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg is wafting through our home. The enticing scent brings my little sister, in her slippers, to tug on Mommy’s apron for a little taste of her latest baking surprise. 

Daddy is sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, with the other children gathered around, happily singing Christmas 
carols. The baby’s eyes are sparkling like diamonds, eagerly watching the flashing lights on the tree. Her chubby little finger is pointing at one beautiful ball on the tree. She reaches out, ever so gently and lets her finger touch the bright red bulb. Her face is filled with a mixture of delight and curiosity. 

Nobody notices me, off in the corner. I’m here; but then again maybe I’m not. I wish to join in on the fun and celebrations, but there is an invisible wall that separates us. 

It has been so long since I’ve felt the loving arms of Daddy wrapped around me, holding me securely, or the soft cuddly arms of Mommy, which were always reaching for me - but cannot even touch me now. Why is it that loved ones are needlessly separated by life and death? Or is it needless? Is there some reason for this that is beyond our limited human understanding? 

It is great just to see that my family is happy and that they are continuing on with their lives, even without me. I can see that they have gone on with their lives because they have had two more children since me. I am glad for them, but oh, it would be so wonderful to be able to take part in the festivities with them, just one more time. 

Although they are all smiling, I am sure I can see a small tear in the corner of Mommy’s eye. As she looks at my photo on the Christmas tree I can tell she remembers her little angel. We only had six short months to spend together. Perhaps she is thinking of that Christmas day, four years ago when I was still with them. 

I was only two months old then, so I really couldn’t do much, except to smile and coo in response to the love and affection they showered upon me. Mommy didn’t take very many photos of me, because I was sleeping most of the time. Besides, she had thought, there will be many wonderful Christmases to come that I can take photos of her. 
On that Christmas day we went to Grandma’s house, Great Grandma’s house and Nana’s house. There were so many of our relatives there. I was passed from person to person. I began to cry. I didn’t know who these people were. They scared me. I was hungry. I wanted my Mommy to take me away. 

As if she could read my mind, she came and held her hands out to take me. My crying became a whimper. I felt so much better. Then she quietly took me to a corner of the room, covered me with a soft cotton blanket and began to nurse me. The comforting scent of Mommy, and her tender, loving arms wrapped around me gave me such a complete sense of security.  

The taste of her warm, sweet milk filled the empty spot in my tummy. The soothing sounds of Mommy’s heartbeats filled my mind as my head nestled close to her warm, soft body. As my tummy became full, her rhythmic heartbeats became a lullaby to me and before long I was sleeping peacefully. But that was four long years ago. Nobody ever thought that it would be our last and only Christmas together - or at least together in the physical sense. We are together 
now, except that they can’t see me and we cannot make any connection. They don’t even know that I am here. 

Now, Mommy smiles as she reaches out her slim hand and delicately touches my hanging photo. Somehow I know that she is thanking God, our Father, that her little baby is safe in His arms in Heaven. Little does she know that I am so close to her right now. I wish we could communicate, but we can’t. Or can we?
Perhaps she knows I am here. Could it be that she can feel my presence, as I stand over here in the corner, invisible to the human eye? Just then she turns and looks around the room. She sniffs and murmurs, “Strawberries?”  She shrugs her shoulders and smiles, knowing it is one of the special moments that she occasionally experiences. 

Every so often when I drift down to check on my family, she and Daddy experience the same sensation. They feel like somebody is watching them. They look around the room. They sniff and smell fresh, sweet strawberries, bringing back memories of how much I loved strawberries. They wonder, Is it possible that Wendy’s spirit could be here with us? 

One time, after checking to make sure nobody was around, Mommy gently called out, “Wendy, is that you?” She waited for a few minutes and I could tell she was remembering some of the wonderful times that we had together. A few salty tears slid down her soft cheek, leaving a wet trace of grief behind them. After a couple of minutes, she wiped away the tears, smiled and continued on with her work. 

Another time, I was with Daddy and I am sure he could feel my presence. He stopped what he was doing and looked around the room. He took a deep breath of succulent, sweet strawberries. Where did that smell come from?  He wondered. He knew that I was close to him. His soft, husky voice cried out, “Oh, Wendy, if I could only hold you close in my arms, just one more time …” Then the tears spilled down his worn and tired face. 

But there is no crying this time, except for the lone tear of Mommy’s. There is no calling out to me either. The other children are with them and they wouldn’t want to confuse them. Christmas is supposed to be a happy time, not a time for mourning and weeping. 

I must return to my home in the sky, now that I’ve shared a few minutes with my family. It was wonderful just to have the slightest moment of connection with them, even if Mommy didn’t realize that it really was me.  

Merry Christmas Mommy and Daddy! 

MY UNKOWN CHRISTMAS Written & Contributed by Mom, Tammy Robinson

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