On the first day of Advent, the city froze around me. The trees formed crystals on every skinny branch I could see from my window. I remained inside, my Christmas tree lit up — looking slightly worse for wear bearing the only six ornaments I currently own. I lit a candle to remind me to pray. I watched the freezing rain fall, my parking lot looking like a sparkling sheet of ice.
And while I stayed inside, safe and warm, an accident took place a few cities over.
Three vehicles collided. The police called the road a skating rink. They said debris was scattered across the pavement. A woman was ejected from her car, after a semi truck crashed into her. She was twenty-four-years-old and she died.
My friend texted me about it today. I’d heard a little, but I didn’t know any details. The accident sounded eerily similar to Tat’s. Their accidents weren’t identical, but the result was the same. The world lost a woman today, just like it did on August 17, 2018.
As I read the texts my friend sent me, I could feel my heart cracking for this woman’s family and friends. Had they bought her a Christmas present yet? Would they return the gift or keep it? Did her family live far? Had the news spread yet, or did only a handful of people know? Would her mother blame God? Would her friends come together or push each other away?
I wished I could do something for them — hold them close, or give them my money — but I knew no amount of money or physical touch could ever do anything to ease the pain that was only beginning. I didn’t even know their names.
I looked at my prayer candle, flickering. I held them in my heart, and asked Jesus to hold them in his arms.
I wondered if she was in Heaven with him. I prayed for that too — and then I wondered if Tat was there when she entered. I liked the thought of that — Tat giving this woman a tour of Heaven. I pictured Tat taking this woman by the hand and welcoming her into a place without sorrow or pain.
I don’t really know how Heaven works, but I know Tat is in the presence of God and I pray this woman is too.
—
I have been thinking of Tat more than usual, knowing tomorrow she would be turning 22. I think of her everyday, but the days leading up to her birthday always have her swirling around me in every moment.
I’d wager a bet that everyone in Tat’s life was looking forward to her 22nd birthday — if only to be able to text Tat the Taylor Swift song. I know I had been excited about it since I learned the intensity of her Taylor Swift obsession. It was as if the song “22” was made for her.
But tomorrow, I won’t be able to text Tat the song. Instead, I can play it and remember her — every good thing about her, which is an innumerable ever flowing list. I will remember her laugh and how she called me “Aleeka”, and the pumpkin cheesecake we made for her dad in Peru that I jokingly dabbed all over her face. I will eat honourary cheesecake and drink honourary Starbucks and pass along kindness in her honour to the people I encounter. I will ask Jesus to tell her how much I love her, how much I miss her, how much I wish I could tell her.
Tomorrow I will light a candle for Tat, and a candle for the woman, and I will anticipate Jesus’ coming this Advent.
And I will thank God for the day when we will all be together at last.
What a day that will be
When my Jesus I shall see
When I look upon His face
the One who saved me by His grace
When He takes me by the hand
And leads me to the Promise Land
What a day, glorious day that will be
- What A Day That Will Be