Summary:  This story was written for the 2016 Advent Collection.

Rating:  G  (1,810 words)

White by Justafan

This story, written specifically for this time of year, when so many people suffer the pain of losing someone they love.  The holidays are always the most difficult, but sometimes…

December 12, 2016

White

“As pure as the driven snow,” is what they always say. Well, I know one who was exactly that. My wife, Alice. So sweet and giving. I lost her and my child just a few months ago. A mad man who did not know her, decided to steal Mama’s jewelry and kill my Alice. My child, who would have been born a few more weeks later, died too, of course. He burned my home to the ground, leaving it and my life in ashes. Alice was lost in that fire, taking away my ability to hold her one last time, even in the grasp of death. I didn’t get a chance to say good bye to her. Everything blackened, charred, and destroyed. To never rise to life again.

I’m standing here, alone. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. Yeah, I remember when my mother died and Adam left the ranch. I lost Hoss, my best friend and so many others. I felt alone then, too.  But this is different. I am lonely for the one that I never knew. So pure and innocent. Never touched or damaged by this world. My child. My son or daughter. Gone to heaven to be with Alice and all the others.

I wonder if it was a boy. He would have been rambunctious and full of life. Laughter would have followed in his wake as I chased him across the yard. I would have taught him to ride and hunt and enjoy life. He would have loved his mother and been the apple of her eye. I can hear Alice’s voice as she sang to him at night. Gone.

Maybe it was a pretty little girl, like her Mama. Small and laughing. Curls bouncing on her head and eyes that sparkled with mischief. I would have taught her to ride and hunt and enjoy life. She would hug me at night and say, “I love you, Papa,” before she skipped off to bed. I would grow gray haired, like my father, with children and grandchildren running around the house. Hopes and dreams gone.

This would have been our first Christmas as a family. There would have been a tree, candles and presents. Pa would have come over and had dinner to avoid taking the baby out in the weather. The smell of Alice’s cooking would have filled the house. She and Hop Sing would cover the table with a delicious meal.

There would be many presents. I would fill the tree with gifts for my wife and new things for my child.    I would buy her jewelry and clothes and shoes and all the pretty things women love. She would have been happy, my Alice. I’d love her like there was no tomorrow . . . . .

My tears start as I remember that there is no tomorrow for me and my family. Our tomorrow ended with brutality and death. Our tomorrow is only a yesterday and I have no one with whom to share my future.

I stand inside the charred remains of my home and watch the snow fall. Silent and white and pure. I came through the back of the house so that I did not disturb the beauty of the snow that lay in the front yard. White, clean, and untouched. The sunlight makes the snow shimmer, like a field of diamonds and I smile. Alice has her jewels; the diamonds I would have given her as a token of my love. They arrived yesterday and I picked them up from the general store. Her gift, to rival the ones in the jewelry box that once belonged to my mother.

I can feel the weight of them in my pocket. “Honey, I’m home,” I say aloud to a person who would not hear. “I have something for you, Alice. I know you will love it.” I slowly unwrap the gift box and remove the beautiful diamond and gold necklace. There is one emerald in the center to represent our child. The light dances off the stones and sparkle against the darkened wood. But the darkness was too deep and heavy to accept the diamonds’ glory.

“I love you, Alice,” I whisper as the tears began to fall.

“I love you more, Joe,” I hear. Spinning around, I expect to see her standing there, but no. It’s just the winds whispering through the broken windows and burned logs. “I love you more,” I hear again.

My hands shake as I wrap the necklace and put it back in my pocket. There is no joy here, so I have to leave. Walking to the front of the house, I see something that was not there before. Laying on the window sill is a white flower. It stands out against the charred, blackened wood, like a star in the night sky. Where did this come from? It was not here before, this beautiful, delicate thing. It’s a star flower and it doesn’t bloom during the winter. I look around and there were more flowers, lying here and there. The wind stirs and the fragrance that Alice loved sweeps through the room.

My heart thudded against my chest. “Hello, I whisper. Is there anyone here?” I know that I am alone in my home and that Alice is not here. I remember how I’d come home from work and she would have these flowers in different places in the house. I smell that fragrance now, in this shell of a home.

“I know you’re here, Alice. Thank you for being a part of my life. I have to go; it’s not good if I come back. There are too many memories and lost dreams. Good bye, my love,” I said as I leave the darkened ruins. The diamond and emerald necklace is heavy in my pocket as I pick my way to the back door.

“God, please help me. I can’t let go, I can’t,” I whisper and lean against the stone hearth. “You have to help me, please.” I drop to my knees and caress the beautiful cradle made for my baby. “Please.”

Gathering my emotions and taking one last glance over my shoulder, I see the snow as it shimmers through all the windows. A blinding white light bursts from the open field and bathes me in its brilliance. I am warmed by the feel of it.

“What is happening here?” I ask aloud and receive no answer.

White: the color of purity, goodness, and innocence. The Reverend said it represents a purification; a cleansing. I can’t stop the tears as I watch the light flood the room. I find myself laughing and I begin to feel a warmth spread, shaking me. I don’t resist. I just enjoy what I am feeling.

“Thank you, Father,” I whisper. “Thank you,” I say as I look to heaven. I know my healing had come. The Reverend said it would and today, Christmas Eve, standing in this shell of my home, looking out at the untouched snow, I receive it. With open arms and a joyful heart, I receive it. I drop to my knees and allow the feeling to wash over me. I cry my joy and thanksgiving aloud to the heavens.

Gaining my feet, I can only smile, thinking about my two angels who have met my mother and Hoss. I see them in the snow that blankets the grave, protecting what was left. They are not there, only the physical that held them on this earth is in that box. I see my wife and child dancing and playing in the meadow, chasing each other; laughing in their pleasure. I thank God for allowing me to have her for that short time and giving me the hope of having a child to love. More brilliant, white light radiates through the window. I smile more, watching the wind stir the snow into two columns that race down the hill.   Alice and the baby.

I feel whole for the first time in a while. I can lay this to rest, now, and move on with my life.  I can leave the memories and devastation behind and just feel the blessings I enjoyed at this moment. Come spring, I will remove the remains of the house so that when the snow falls again, it will be completely pure. Nothing will be built here, except one small memorial to the family I lost and the salvation I gained. This is Alice’s Meadow. In the winter, there will only be a smooth, white blanket glistening in the noon day sun while two angels stir the freshly fallen snow.

“Joseph, are you all right?” Pa asked. I turned around to find him shaking the snow from his hat. “I saw a bright light from here and I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. I knew it couldn’t be a fire.”

“Yes, Pa. There is a fire. It’s in here,” I answered tapping my chest.  “Let’s go home. Tomorrow’s Christmas Day and I haven’t wrapped your present,” I said smiling.  “I have gifts to wrap and I want Hop Sing to cook this recipe Alice talked about a lot.  By the way, did you pick up the new candles from the mercantile.  I forgot to get them.  The tree is going to be beautiful tonight.  Pa, do you think we can sing Christmas carols like we did when Hoss and Adam were here?”

“Son, what happened to you?” He asked.

“A whole lot and nothing that I can explain,” I answered. I know I had this silly grin on my face, but I could not control the joy and peace I felt.  I did not want to control it.  I wanted it to burst from my the way it came in.  I just could not stop smiling.

“Your hair is all white and your face is, well Joe, it’s  . . .” He paused and reached for the curls that covered my head. “Son, you. . . . Anyway, you’ll see when you get home,” Pa said. “Let’s go.”

Taking one final look over my shoulder, I tapped my hat securely on my head and followed my father down the remains of the back step.

“Pa, what were you saying about white?” I asked as I vaulted into the saddle. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

“As a matter of fact, Joseph, it is absolutely splendid.  Come on, Buck.  Let’s go home.  We have some celebrating to do,” Pa shouted.

May the grace of our Lord and Savior

rest and abide with everyone during the holiday

season and the rest of the year.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Link to the 2016 Advent Calendar – Day 13 – A Gift of Memories (by dancediva)