Rachel
I sat on the couch and was surrounded by warmth, and it wasn’t coming from the fireplace. My heart felt light, as if it would float away if it could. I thought about where I’d been a year before. Living in a small apartment. Didn’t even have a tree. And the only present I received that year was from Claire. Neither of us had much money so we decided to only spend ten dollars on each other.
Both of us had the brilliant idea that we could buy more for less if we went to the dollar store. So that’s what we did. Turned out we’d bought each other some of the exact same things, including a white mug with “best friend” written on it and an apple-cinnamon candle that smelled better when it wasn’t burning.
A year ago, Piper and Mary weren’t a part of my life and I wasn’t sick. What will it be like a year from now? I wondered. They will all be here, but will I?
I tucked Piper in bed and listened as she said her prayers. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Piper asked.
I climbed in bed next to her and snuggled up.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah, Pipe.”
“Jacy says there isn’t a Santa. Is it true?”
My heart sank. I wasn’t prepared for Piper’s question and it took me off guard. “What do you think, Pipe?”
“I think there is.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes, Pipe?”
“What do you think?”
“I think there is, too.”
After Piper fell asleep, I slipped out of her bed and back to my room. I pulled out my diary and wrote.
December 6, 2015
Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect. Well, that’s not true. If I wasn’t sick it would have been even more perfect. I used to wonder why I got sick, why bad things happen to good people. I stopped wondering, though, because I really don’t think there’s an answer. It’s not like God is up there saying, “Well, now, we have to throw some trials and tribulations Rachel’s way to test her faith.” Bad stuff just happens sometimes without rhyme or reason. It’s the quirkiness of life.
But tonight I realized that while a lot of bad stuff has happened to me, a lot of good stuff has, too. Mary and Piper. Claire and Nick. They’re my family and they aren’t going anywhere. For a long time, I wouldn’t let myself care too much about someone else. It was my way of protecting me. I didn’t want to love anyone because if I didn’t love them I wouldn’t get hurt when they left. But I see that loving someone and losing them is part of life, too. And I’d rather spend a minute having that kind of love than a lifetime without it.
Rachel
In the weeks that followed, Mary turned the house into a winter wonderland. I’ve never seen a more beautifully decorated house. Each day more presents appeared beneath the tree. Of course, these weren’t the ones from Santa. Those Mary wrapped in special paper and hid.
“What do you think about me getting Piper a dog for Christmas?” Mary asked me one day.
I smiled. “You know she’d love it.”
“Well, I’ve been checking,” Mary said. “I’ve found a local breeder who has a female pup that will be six weeks old. He’s holding her for me. I wanted to check with you first to see what you thought.”
“Mary, I think it’s a wonderful idea. It will make Piper’s Christmas.”
The thought of Piper getting a dog made me look forward to Christmas even more. I was lucky because Christmas arrived during my break in chemo so I wasn’t as tired as I would’ve been otherwise.
A few days before Christmas, Piper and Mary came home shopping with Christmas pajamas for each of us.
“I’d like to start a new tradition,” Mary said. “Each year, we’ll buy a pair of Christmas pajamas and wear them Christmas Eve.”
Piper handed me a bag and I pulled out a beautiful soft purple nightgown trimmed in white lace. I rubbed the fabric against my cheek. “It feels silky soft.”
Piper showed me hers, which was similar to mine but pink. “And Mommy got blue,” Piper said.
Mary held up her nightgown.
“I love you in blue, Mary. It shows off your gorgeous eyes and hair.”
When Christmas Eve came, we went to church and then came home and put on our new nightgowns.
Piper opened the tab on the Advent calendar Mary had bought her. “And tomorrow I’ll open the last door,” she said. “And then it will be Christmas!”
Piper set out a plate of cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.
Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child was truly magical and I wished for some of that magic myself. Maybe the new year would bring it. I hoped so. By next Christmas I hoped to be through radiation and back in college.
The next morning Piper burst into my room. “It’s Christmas, Rachel! Get up! Get up! Santa was here!”
I rolled over and pulled the cover over my head, pretending to fall back to sleep. Piper bounced on my bed and shook me. “Come on, Rachel! Get up! Don’t you want to see what Santa brought you?”
I peeled the cover down over my face.
Piper’s eyes were as big as half dollars. “And our stockings are full, too.”
“Okay, Pipe. I’m coming.”
I slipped out of bed. When I walked into the living room, I couldn’t believe it myself. I’d helped Mary put out the gifts the night before, but she had added substantially to my pile.
I’d never see so many presents for one person – ever. Mary only had a few, but you’d have thought by the way she acted she had more than Piper and me combined.
Mary snapped photos as Piper and I opened our gifts.
“Why don’t you open yours?” I asked.
“I will. I’m enjoying watching you girls.”
A mountain of colorful paper formed on the floor between Piper and me. Seeing Piper so happy made me choke back my tears.
I picked up my jewel-quilted red-velvet stocking. Mary had a local seamstress make them for us and our names were embroidered at the top. I remember getting a stocking once or twice in my life, but never anything like the one Mary had prepared. It was stuffed with small wrapped gifts and I began to empty it, unwrapping one at a time. She had included a lot of useful items, like deodorant and hand sanitizer. Finally, I was down to the last gift, the one in the toe of the stocking.
I pulled out a small box. Mary was poised with her camera to apparently capture this moment. I tore off the wrapping paper and opened the small velvet case.
“Oh, Mary!” I melted in tears and heard Mary’s camera clicking.
“Let me see! Let me see!” Piper scooted over to look.
I showed her the huge beautiful diamond ring with blue sapphires, my birthstone, on either side.
“That’s pretty,” Piper said.
“It’s beautiful Mary. I don’t know what to say.”
Mary put down her camera and hugged me. “A beautiful ring for an even more beautiful daughter.”
Piper and I had finished opening all our gifts when she gave me the signal to bring in the puppy. She’d made arrangements to have someone drop it off and we’d kept it hidden from Piper.
“I’ll be right back.”
I left to get the puppy. When I returned, Piper was playing with her new doll.
“It looks like Santa left one more for you, Pipe.” I sat the box down in front of her.
Piper heard yelps and she opened the box and scooped the grapefruit-sized puppy into her arms. “A real puppy! Santa brought me a real puppy!”
If I could have bottled Piper’s reaction that morning I would have. I can’t even describe what I felt just then. About all of it. Mary. Piper. The ring. The puppy. The love that was in that room was like nothing I had ever experienced. And I knew that no matter what happened with my illness, I’d been given the greatest gift of all. It wasn’t the ring. It wasn’t the mountain of gifts I’d just opened. It was something that had eluded me my entire life. We had become a family and that was the greatest gift I could have possibly received.
December 25, 2015
Today I’m at a loss for words. Imagine that! Rachel not being able to think of what to write! But the truth is I’m almost afraid to write it down, afraid that if I do it will leave me somehow. And I don’t want how I feel to ever leave me. I want to hug it forever.
I’m not sure anyone would be able to understand that. But when you wait your whole life for something and you finally get it, you’re afraid that you’ll somehow lose it. That someone will come along and say, “Sorry, we made a mistake.” Or, “Sorry, you’re not good enough to have this life we gave you.” So I’m just going to hug it for a while, care for it like I’ve cared for Piper. And maybe someday, when I’m not afraid it will go away at the snap of a finger, I can tell you more. For now, know that I am happy and at peace and that, no matter what happens with my cancer, I have what I always wanted: A family.
Love, Rachel