Anaelle Jutras-Plante
What is there to say? His eyes are blue like a stormy sea and his smile is soft like snow. But Oliver is beautiful in more than a physical way, he has a breathtaking soul. Ever since I can remember, he has made people laugh, held the door open for strangers, and always been the first to come and help when anything went wrong with just about anyone. There are no words that could ever do justice to Oliver, and there never would be.
It was on December 25th that I first talked to Oliver, when all the kids in town went skating at the lake, and it was on December 26th that Oliver saved my life. When my head was under water, the cold was taking over my body, and that breath was failing my lungs, his arms wrapped around me and dragged me out. He would later joke that I was so desperate to talk to him again that I almost drowned myself to get his attention. And while I wouldn’t go that far, I would have to admit that while he was talking, it was his eyes I drowned in. Ever since that day, my heart had been his and it wasn’t long before he gave me his in return. I trusted him with mine and he promised to take more care of it than I ever could. Years later, on December 25th, Oliver and I got married. He is my most precious Christmas gift, he’s my little angel. There was not a single doubt in my head… he was the man I would love even after I lay on my deathbed.
07:25, September 8th, 1939. I woke up to the sound of Oliver mumbling something in my ear. “What is it?” I asked. “I love you, that’s all,” he answered, kissing my cheek. His body felt warm against mine, his presence comforting. “I wish I could stay here forever,” I whispered to him and he answered ever so quietly, almost seeming worried… “Promise me you’ll always love me. Promise me you’ll never leave me.” “I promise,” I answered. “Do you?” “I do,” he said sweetly. “I promise to love you for as long as the stars shine, I promise to love you for as long as God loves you and I.” I simply smiled and closed my eyes. “Forever,” he added, kissing me. His lips were warm, the sun was bright. How lucky was I to be blessed with such a beautiful life?
07:26, September 9th, 1939. I woke up to the sound of Oliver mumbling something in my ear. “What is it?” I asked, smiling. “War.” He answered and my eyes shot open, he was staring right in them. “We declared war on Germany,” he continued. But I didn’t have time to answer, Oliver was up and getting dressed. “Oliver,” I said softly but he didn’t hear me, he was already out of the room. I brought the covers down and the cold washed over me. The world had changed, there was no questioning it. “You won’t go, Oliver. Right?” I questioned as I walked in the kitchen. He was staring outside with his arms crossed. “Oliver,” I repeated but he still didn’t answer. I walked up to him and touched his back softly. “I won’t,” he answered and I sighed in relief. “At least not yet,” he added and I felt my heart slip out of his hands before he caught it and wrapped me in a hug. On my side, I held his heart as tight as I could. “Remember our promise,” I said and his only answer was to lean down and kiss me. His lips were cold and I wondered if they would be warm ever again.
During the following months, as the war slowly unfolded, I held on to Oliver and every moment we shared. But on March 26th, my world stopped spinning. I couldn’t keep him any longer, he said he needed to go. That God called him to. He had handed me a gift and said, “not before Christmas,” before kissing me one final time. I took a second to drown in his eyes again and when they looked away I wondered if Oliver remembered to pack my heart because I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. The last thing I remember was the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his eyes.
The days were long and dark. The bed was cold and the house empty. Every second that went by I missed Oliver’s laugh, I missed his warmth. If only I could see his smile or stare in his eyes instead of having to live another day without him, I would gladly. About a month after Oliver left, I got news of a miracle… life was growing inside of me. I didn’t believe it at first, I was going to have a child while Oliver wasn’t here. How old would our child be when he would get to see it? But the most peculiar thing of all, was that war and death could still find a way to create life. A life for a soul is what they say. Who’s soul had been taken for this one to grow? I was beyond scared, to say the least. How long would I have to raise this kid alone, what world was I even raising it into?
07:25, December 25th, 1940. A boy was born. When his eyes first met mine I swore I was staring in my husband’s rather than my son’s. They were little stars, just like his dad. My heart felt full for the first time in 9 months, maybe Oliver had handed it over to him or maybe they were sharing it now. My lips were warm against his forehead when I kissed him. That night when he was asleep I sat in the living room, wrapped in a blanket and stared at the lights in the Christmas tree. It was the first time I wasn’t celebrating Christmas, and most importantly, it was the first time I was alone on the 25th. Could anyone celebrate anything in these times? Christmas had always been the most beautiful time of the year for me and it only became more special when I met Oliver. It was a day to celebrate with the people I loved and today, I felt nothing. There was no Christmas in war time. Not for me. But something still brought me to the gift Oliver had handed me the day he left. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the wrapping. This had been the last new piece of Oliver I had, but it was Christmas and it was his wish for me to open it today. Inside of it was a cross necklace and a letter. When I read his words something inside of me believed that soon, Oliver would be home and that we could finish building the beautiful life we had started. That together, we could raise a wonderful child, a mini version of the love of my life.
To my wife, to the light of my life.
Merry Christmas! I cannot believe I am spending it without you, and I cannot explain how much I look forward to coming home. You are my Christmas angel, my most precious gift. I hope you know that I love you no matter how far away we are and no matter what happens to us, there is not a moment of any day when I don’t think of you. You are the reason I am fighting. I fight for a world where I would be proud to raise a family with you. But if ever I am not there, be at peace knowing there is no better death I can think of, than a life sacrificed for the freedom of another. Worry not, I will always look over you. From up close or far away, you will never be alone.
Everytime I look at the stars I think of you, you have no idea how much I miss you. Do you look at them too?
I love you. Forever.
- Oliver. Xx
07:26, December 26th, 1940. I don’t know if it was my son’s cries or the knock on the door that woke me up, but it wasn’t long before I had my newborn baby in my arms as I impatiently swung open the door. “What is it?” I asked. But the soldier standing at my front door holding a uniform, a ring, and a letter in his arms needed not to say a word for me to understand. My head was underwater, breath was failing my lungs, but Oliver wasn’t there to drag me out. He never would be again. My mind was blurry, my heart numb. I handed my own son to the stranger in front of me, my heart had been broken, my Christmas gift burnt. The stars had stopped shining and God had stopped loving me. I sank to my knees and the tears left my eyes. If I could’ve cried enough to drown in them, I would’ve. Oliver had broken his promise, he had left me and because of it, his son would never grow to know his dad. A scream escaped my mouth and I started punching the wall. I was angry at the world, I was angry at God, and I was angry at war. I brought a hand to my lips so they would stop shaking. They were cold and I knew they always would be now that Oliver was gone. Finally, the tears stopped and I lay still, all of me wanted to deny reality. Part of me questioned if I even wanted this child. How could I look in his eyes without seeing Oliver? Wherever he was, however he died, he brought my heart with him.
The poor soldier stood at my door with a crying baby in his arms and the belongings of my dead husband for a lot longer than he should’ve while I lay on the ground. There were no words, no actions that could ever make me feel better at the time. Eventually the soldier walked into the house shyly and set the newborn in his crib. He could’ve set the house on fire for all I care, I wouldn’t have moved an inch. All emotions and all thoughts I had were gone. I forgot my role as a mom, as a wife, and as an individual. I forgot who I was, or perhaps it was humanity who forgot who they were. It was the world that was on fire and we weren’t flinching. We were all burning. There was no me without Oliver and there was no humanity without freedom. What had we become? In a world where families are separated and men are sacrificed so other families can be united and other men can live, you know there are hideous people. The soldier gently grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me inside, closing the door behind me. He crouched himself down to my level and looked me in the eyes. “I am sorry for your loss ma’am. I truly am. But your husband died so you and your son could live in a better world. Don’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” As much as I knew every word he spoke was true, I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Promise me you will,” he added firmly and all I could do was nod. “Your husband fought in the war, he saw things no man should ever have to see and lived through things no man should ever have to live through. So get yourself together. You have a child to take care of, you hear me?” I nodded again. “So promise me.” “I promise,” I answered but I didn’t believe in promises. Not anymore. My words seemed to satisfy the soldier because he stood and headed for the door. “May God bless your souls,” were the last words he said before exiting. But as I sat on the floor and the cold breeze washed over me, I did not feel blessed.
December 25th, 1941. In a world where families are separated and men are sacrificed so other families can be united and other men can live, you know there are beautiful people. Oliver was one of them. I sat at the kitchen table, the cross around my neck and Oliver’s wedding ring on the table beside his letter. I had read it more times than there are stars in the sky. But if ever I am not there, be at peace, he had said. I stared out the window with my son and looked at the stars. They shined, they never had stopped. Even when the clouds cover them or that the sun hides them, they are still there. What I realized was that it was in the darkest hours that the stars shined brightest. Good people, like Oliver, were like stars in the sky. They were lights to this world during our darkest times. And it was only now that I understood that Oliver had never broken his promise. He had never truly left me and he had never stopped loving me. The stars were still shining and God still loved him and I. One day we would meet again, one day he would meet our son, and we would both see that when the lights burn out and the stars disappear, they don’t truly leave. Just like Oliver’s love.
I looked at the little boy we had created together and I knew I would never have to spend Christmas alone, I never had. And as I stared in his stormy-blue eyes and the words left my mouth, I knew Oliver was saying them too… “I promise to love you for as long as the stars shine, I promise to love you for as long as God loves you and I.” I simply smiled and closed my eyes. “Forever,” I added, kissing his forehead. His skin was warm, the stars were bright. How lucky was I to be blessed with such a beautiful life? I put him to sleep singing a soft Christmas song and I stared as he dozed off to a peaceful sleep. I ran my hand across my little angel’s cheek and spoke the following words lightly. “Merry Christmas. I love you, Oliver.”
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