Christmas Eve

December 24, 2025. Christmas Eve. Jason’s not here.

The poems, the writing about grief, they all talk about an empty chair during this season.

It’s so much more than an empty chair.  It doesn’t feel like Christmas. Not without Jason.

There is a presence missing in the room.
A laugh that should be heard.
A voice that should be singing carols in the car.
A name that should have gifts under the tree.
A stocking that should be filled.
A hand to be held.
It should be him. Sitting on the couch next to me.
Excited, giddy, generous. Full of love and life and joy.
The man who wanted deeply to live.
He should be here.
He should be the person I wake up next to tomorrow and say “Merry Christmas”.
I miss my husband, best friend, person, and soulmate.
He is missing.
He is missed.

The pain of him not getting to experience a life he so badly wanted, is heavy in ways I can’t explain.