Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the Charmed characters, quotes, or overt references that may appear in my stories. They are the sole property of Spelling Television. I write for my own satisfaction and for the enjoyment of those who choose to read them.


Christmas Without You

Complete


I stared at the hollow faces of poverty. The neediness in the eyes of a hungry child, the tears of the mother unable to feed her son. The careworn visage of a father whose pride was being tested as he stood in line for a free meal, his daughter clinging to his leg, fear in the once carefree eyes. The man who lost his job stood next to the man who lost his mind. The abused teenager who took to the streets moved closer to the young girl born on the very streets she takes refuge in. Shoulder to shoulder stand the laid off pharmacist and the addict who is in desperate need of a fix. There were new faces scattered among the old. Crazy Mary was still cursing at the Zoltar for constantly moving her shopping cart. Benny was singing your favorite song, while Hector backed him up on his air guitar. Somehow it sounded off key this year.

The flames jumping from the industrial barrels lit the makeshift community. Not much has changed, except that you aren’t with me this year to pass out the blankets and food baskets. Eyes searched for you, I found myself searching too. The blankets were accepted with much enthusiasm and appreciation, but they missed you, so did I. The arms that reached out to hug me, held on a little longer than in the past, as if sending an extra hug your way, I want to hug you too. The shelters made up of cardboard, placed over grates of escaping steam, were more in number, but I found myself short one sister this year. Still I went.

I remembered all the years we shared the true spirit of Christmas with those whose spirits were low and depleted of hope. I turned back the pages of time and recalled how you taught me the wonderful gift of sharing. The concept was difficult for my ten-year-old mind to understand, that is, until you gave me a life altering, interactive lesson. I have never forgotten the wisdom you voiced without speaking a word. How I wish you could wordlessly talk with me again. Well the last of the care packages are now gone. I stand alone, wishing you were here, but the solitary tear running down my cheek tells me that this Christmas will be without you.
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I heard you in the wind today... I miss your voice. I felt your touch in the sun today... I miss your embrace. I held you close in my heart today... I miss you. I feel weightless as the heaviness of your absence bears down on my soul. The ache is overwhelming and I fear it will always last. You were my big sister, my very best friend, my second self. How do you push that all aside in the course of a year... a lifetime? I cannot... I will not.

I remember the day of your funeral. I went to the window seat in your room. The beads of moisture ran down the glass. It seemed that as each raindrop fell it quietly whispered your name. I remember pulling myself in because you weren't there, overtaken by the coldness of the room, of my soul. That emptiness has found me again. I knew it was coming, coming for me. I have never been able to escape it. I hide behind the normalcy of a world that will never be normal again. I seek comfort in the novelty of the here and now, but the solace is just a facade. Nothing can duplicate or replace the sanctuary of my big sister. You used to be my refuge, my anchor; you used to know me better than I could ever know myself. You touched a part of my soul that I thought had vanished. Now it is you who has disappeared. How could you have left me? I still need you!
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The streets were crowded and the stores were packed. I walked with purpose but not to buy. I was window shopping for memories. The time, just two years ago, we each sat on Santa’s lap, much to the delight of the middle aged man hidden behind the wintry white beard. The cries of a little girl, lost, were silenced with the upswing into her big sister’s arms. The cafe where we spent hours laughing and finishing each other’s sentences. I traced our steps with perfect accuracy yet the trip was not the same. I walked back to the car, feeling cheated in every way.

The fireplace burns but the room remains cold, my thoughts return to Christmas Past. Old carols we would sing. The angel on top of the tree watching over all the gifts at its base. The smell of pine and the taste of eggnog, mixed among the laughter and the love. This time of year will never be the same again. The innocence is lost in the absence of your presence. Christmas is harder on this heart of mine. The season lacking your companionship is like ornaments without a tree, it just isn’t right. Tears blur the colors of Christmas lights. The festive ballads turn me poignant and sad. The merriment of this time of year is tainted with melancholy, how can I be happy when the only thing that will bring me joy is you? The crescent moon is orchestrating a symphony of stars. The clock is chiming the midnight hour... “Merry Christmas Prue.”

The distant radio plays your favorite holiday song. The distinct voice of Elvis wafts across the Manor, each note striking a dissonant chord in my heart. The memories flood my view, slowing, only to show your face. You pause as if you want to tell me something. But the deep tones of The King keep you from speaking your heart. The harmony of your beauty is in conflict with the ugliness of the truth. Relentlessly the music plays on; stubbornly you strive to over-shout my sorrow. I see you standing by the tree... Christmas 1979. You are lifting me up to put the angel on the tip of the ornamented evergreen. You laugh and tickle me, but something catches your eye. Your brow creases in concentration; you stare directly into my present eyes, your lips move... “What? I can’t hear you Prue! What are you trying to tell me?” Still the damned music blasts against your urgent pleas.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you
I'll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won't mean a thing if you're not here with me...

I grab my head, as if to pull myself into history. Trying to comprehend, attempting to seize your heart; when suddenly the hollowness of space is filled with providential warmth. The air that once was stale with death is now alive with a peaceful calm. The yuletide accoutrements seem to take on a different visage, redefining their existence. Inverting their previous reality. My moistened face rises in hope.

“Now I see... You... you are the raven-haired angel sitting on top of the decorated tree. I hear your voice lifting above all the rest as a reverent child sings out of Peace on earth, Goodwill toward men. You are the Santa in the corner standing, bringing festive cheer. Your are in every page of the Christmas Eve story that I know so well. You are in the face of Wyatt as he experiences his first Christmas. You are still here!!” I reach out as if to feel your touch...

Suddenly I sensed another presence in the room. I made no attempt to reposition. I recognized the arms that were so unfamiliar as they gently wrapped around my shoulders. I still exerted no effort to shift myself free; instead I eased into the comfort being offered. She didn’t need words to tell me her heart. Her tears were ministering to my axis wounds. I listened to the unassuming grace, the humble sympathy that was radiating from her healing hand, as it ran, ever so tenderly through my hair. I will never forget the moment, the relief governed by my sweet... sweet sister. The lights on the tree seemed brighter, sending multiple shimmers, hallowing the golden gowned guardian atop the greenery’s peak. Maybe it was just my eyes or the moment’s emotion but I would swear I saw a tear run down the porcelain cheek. I will never know for sure, but I will think it true for the rest of my days. My sister pulled me to her lap and started to sing, softly, almost unhearing. Her tones were therapeutic and cathartic.

Oh there's no place like home
For the holidays, ‘cause no matter
How far away you roam
If you want
To be happy in a million ways
For the holidays, you can’t beat
Home, sweet home

The last note was drifting into my sleepiness. I grabbed her hand and with a smile I said. “Thanks Paige. I love you. Merry Christmas.” Slumbering in the safety of my baby sister.

The Finished line ~