If Tomorrow Never Comes:
"Will they visit today?"
Maybe they are busy doing their Christmas shopping? Oh! How I recall the Christmas rush. I loved the shops, picking out "special" gifts for my children, and buying the food I had to cook for our family Christmas lunch.
My children loved the beautifully wrapped presents under the Christmas tree. I used to love looking at their faces as they unwrapped their presents.
"This is just what I wanted mom, thank you," said my son with a toothless grin.
"You're the best mom ever," said my daughter as she hugged me tightly. Her little hands nearly choked my neck.
I smile as I clean the place and throw away the wrappings. I hear their distant laughter, and life at that moment is beautiful. My heart is content because my children are happy; their voices are like music to my ears, as even their whining fills the house and signifies happiness and a home.
The home is silent now, except for my cat meowing when he needs to eat. I often tune the radio to a talk show because it feels like the conversation is happening in the house.
"I'm a bit busy right now but will pop in soon," my son promises.
"You need to understand that I have my own life now," he continues.
"I understand."
"I love you, my boy," I say.
"Ma, I have to go now." "Bye."
"Bye," I answer to a dialling tone-he finished the call already.
I wanted to let him know I'm not feeling well, but maybe tomorrow, he will have time to listen.
"You promised to come around today," I message my daughter.
"I bought your favourite biscuits to have with our tea," I write.
No answer.
The smartphone they gave me last year is silent.
Let me increase the volume.
The water in the kettle boils for the second time.
She is an hour late.
What if something happened to her?
I dial her home, and my little grandson answers.
"Hello, granny," he shouts.
"Hi, Liam, is mommy there?" I enquire.
"Yes, she is. She is having lunch with her col.col.colle...." He stumbles.
"Colleagues?" I interject.
"Yes, that word. I'll call her!"
"Mommy!" He screams
"Liam, it's ok."
"Granny will call her later."
"Bye for now." "Granny loves you,"
I asked my children about their plans for Christmas lunch.
My son is going to his in-laws for lunch, and my daughter and her family are planning a holiday.
The glittering lights on the Christmas tree blink on and off, almost mocking me with its "cheerful" dance. The brightly wrapped presents under it, lying untouched.
It's Christmas morning, and I am happy. My daughter called and wished me and told me she loved me. She said she would see me soon. My son messaged me because he was busy unwrapping the presents his in-laws bought him. He couldn't talk.
Tomorrow is family day, and I hope they come around. I gave the biscuits away.
I couldn't eat all that.
I will have to buy more tomorrow.
And as I sit in my favourite chair, I remember so many Christmases that have passed. The nervous excitement when I brought my son home from the hospital. He was so tiny. He used to follow me around wherever I went. My daughter was more independent and used to sing and dance around the house.
They are good children. Just busy with their lives. I never felt lonely when James was alive, but it's been eight years since he passed. My children promised him they would keep in touch with me. I understand that they are busy.
"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells," I sing to the cat, who looks angry that I woke him from his nap.
I am looking forward to tomorrow because my son is visiting. It would be wonderful to speak to someone again, and perhaps I could tell him about the pain I have been experiencing. But what if tomorrow never comes?
In 60 minutes, you, reading this, could make an old, lonely family member or friend happy this Christmas holiday by setting aside time to visit them.
Christmas holidays are known as the loneliest time of the year.
Please take time out to be with them.
Make their hearts happy today because tomorrow may never come.
