I am baking Christmas cookies to shake off the cold, both physically and emotionally. Rapturous Christmas music is ringing throughout the house, still there is an icy chill running through me that will not be warmed by tradition or memory.
I have never lost a parent yet, and I am aching for my husband and daughter. I hurt for Mom. I can’t imagine losing a spouse.
Maybe this is the “shadow of death” that I feel as Papa wrestles between life and death. I am not the one making the cross over, but this shadow falls long and cold across my path.