O Christmas Tree

Taking down the Christmas tree every year usually makes me melancholy, but this year it just made me downright sad.
Maybe because I can't shake this feeling that this may be Mom's last Christmas. Maybe it's because Mom really didn't realize it was Christmas and didn't seem to want to participate in any festivities. It could be that I'm just feeling tired and sad these days.
Whatever the reason, I'm sad tonight because the Christmas tree is gone, leaving an empty space, kind of like the one in my own heart.
It is so difficult for me to realize that I will never have my Mom back again. Although I get glimpses of her every now and again, those glimpses are getting few and far between. I cry for my Mom, because I'm missing her already. It's like she's already gone from me. And in many ways she is.
The Christmas tree this year was huge and regal, shaped perfectly from limb to limb. All the lights and ornaments did was enhance its natural beauty. It was the biggest tree we've ever had in the Ousley household. I was encouraged to take photos of it, but I just couldn't do it. I felt like taking a photo would somehow be violating the tree, taking something from it. Instead, night after night, after Mom went to bed and it was just me and Gigi, I would just look at the tree from top to bottom, memorizing each detail: where each ornament was placed, how the lights twinkled amongst the branches, how the limbs were perfectly shaped and supported even the heaviest ornaments. If I close my eyes right now, I can see it perfectly.
I often do this if I really want to remember something. Like being at the beach and listening to the sound of the waves roll in. If I quiet my thoughts, I can hear those waves, soft and then loud, sometimes crashing against the shore's rocks. I don't visit the beach often enough, so I want to make the memories last. And it usually works.
So in the months to come, when I have difficult days, I will close my eyes and remember our beautiful tree and I know that will help me get through those days that I wonder if I will survive.
Thank you, Lord, for making such a perfect tree and allowing us to share it.