MEDIUM RARE

Lost. Lacking. Absent.
The white light of Christmas also shines on those family members, friends and loved ones who are far away or have gone away, including those who will nevermore return, by choice or fate. Maybe that is why there are 12 days to Christmas, time to miss them, make up to them and connect in cyberspace or in that secret space we call the heart, whether as shared memories or imagined moments together.
If that sounded sentimental, what is Christmas but a bundle, a season of emotions soft and loud, expressively muted or loudly proclaimed? We sing our hearts out, caroling or whispering, we send out cards and gifts, we wish the world the best of joy, love, and peace. It is right and just that Christmas comes at the end of the year, one month after Thanksgiving, for us to tie up the bundle with the best that we can offer, at the end of one long year marked by distance and absence.
At Christmastime, surrounded by those near and dear, we also think of those we nickname the MIA’s, Missing in Action.
Wherever they are, in whatever form and shape and dimension in space and time, they are there, here.
We also think of those who have been spending their Christmases alone, a tribe of loners who don’t consider themselves lonely, a word that is anathema to them. In orphanages as in homes for the aged and the forgotten, the residents would have been visited by now, by strangers who would’ve tried their best to cheer them up. Faith, hope, charity, remember your streetsweeper, the garbage collectors.
Before she left us for good, my best friend was one of those who collected gifts and cash for children abandoned by their parents and were now residing in an orphanage (until when?). Another friend’s mission was to drop in on a former colleague who had lost his job, his memory, his family. To see someone in that condition who once was a part of your life requires an inner strength that nature asks you to respond to, positively.
Merry Christmas, as we say, knowing that for every gift wrapped and given, there’s a forgotten child and elderly somewhere, waiting to be remembered.