It’s the First Day of Spring! And you know what that means! Arnold’s Christmas Story is here! I know it’s really late this year, but this one took some time. I hope you will enjoy it.

This year’s story is for anyone who has ever lost anyone – or who might lose anyone. And that’s everyone.

It’s a personal exploration of those final years of a relationship – It’s about living a full life and how for all of us, this life is a finite blessing! And how Lucky we are!

So, perhaps find an hour this evening to just sit quietly and read. It’s good for the soul. Take a break from the news headlines and think about what our life is really worth to us, and what we want it to be.

Please Note: Though inspired by real people and incidents, all the names, characters, places, and events in this story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Christmas Day in the Morning

By Arnold J. Mungioli

“Oh, Darling! Thank God you called!”

She sounded overwrought.

“What’s the matter, Ma? Are you Okay?”

“No!” she cried. “It was just such an awful night! I was up with your father all night and then we had to take him to the hospital, and I didn’t get any sleep and now we don’t know if he’s going to be okay and we didn’t get home until the morning and by then I couldn’t get back to sleep!”

This conversation was quite disorienting, as his father had been dead for several years, and she had been living on her own since then.

“It’s okay, Ma,” he comforted her while quickening his step. “I’m on my way over. Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon. I just got off the train. I’m only about twenty minutes away.” Then, trying to normalize the conversation, he continued, “I was just calling to see if you needed me to pick you up anything before I get there.”

“Oh, Thank God! Thank God for you! Please just get here. No, I don’t need anything. Just you. Please come as soon as you can.”

“I’m on my way now, Mom. I’ll be right there. Ten minutes more. I’m rushing. Only ten minutes,” he told her.

Her son was with her when his father died. They experienced it together, all through home hospice care, and then that moment when the man stopped breathing. “Did he just die?” she asked, to which her son replied, not really having ever seen that before, “I…think…so.” She cried out her husband’s name, wailing with tears, and lamenting over and over again, “I thought we had more time,” as her son stood over her and held her, putting aside his own grief to support her in hers.

It’s difficult and somewhat pointless to speculate what happens for someone when they die. Are they filled with happy memories of all the good things they experienced in this lifetime, or do they immediately forget all those they’ve left behind, and move into a more welcoming place with all those that have gone before them? No doubt his father’s journey from here included the joyful exuberance of his children’s cries of glee on so many Christmas mornings. His dad had done so many things in this life less than he would ideally have liked, but that was the one thing he did unfailingly well. It came naturally to the man, mostly from growing up in the Great Depression and having awakened into so many of his own childhood Christmas Mornings with no toys – maybe just one or two times, an orange. And so, spending his adult life getting to see his children awaken to a plethora of toys every Christmas morning proved somehow healing for his soul, even if he appeared somewhat grouchy about it. And his beloved wife who brought him so much joy took pleasure in every day of her life with her family, but this particular holiday most of all!

~ This Morning ~

“Ma, it’s Christmas!” her son spoke loudly and clearly.

“Ma, can you hear me?” he repeated. “It’s Christmas!”

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