A Holiday Legacy

Maria was a single mother with three kids. Her husband was on the wrong end of a drug deal gone bad some time before. Five years ago, she spent Christmas in Detox for the third and last time. Maria swore she would never do that to her kids again. She eventually got two jobs and off public assistance two years ago. They didn’t have much, but everything was their own. Even when she was still receiving public assistance, she would volunteer at the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving and Christmas. She explained that being sober she realized even when you don’t have anything, you do have something to give. She planned this to be a special Christmas for her family. A pack a day smoker she cut back slowly to two packs a week. For everyday she didn’t buy a pack, she put the money into a Christmas fund. For the first time she had more than five hundred dollars to spend on the family for the holiday. As Maria talked, she had a twinkle in her eye and happiness buoyed her words. Christmas being on a Sunday meant the soup kitchen was closed and the day would be just for the family. I knew that day I had made a special friend.

A year past and this Thanksgiving I signed up to start at the soup kitchen 8:30 a.m. I looked forward to seeing my friend Maria from the year before. This Thanksgiving Day was different from last year. It was cold and rainy. There were fewer people and not many from the year before. This year’s crew had to work harder and didn’t take many breaks. I found myself doing my best imitation of Maria the year before. Preparing, setting up, clean up, garbage wheelbarrow detail, serving and both coffee and fruit carts. As good as I felt about the day I was disappointed about not seeing Maria.

Being one of the last to leave, I mentioned to one of the staff about having met this woman last year, Maria. He described her right down to the cigarettes and three kids finishing with, "is that who you mean?" I said, "Yeah." Nonchalantly, he explained she had a slip last summer and did some bad stuff. His last words were "That was it. It happens all the time here and you lose a lot of the good ones." He shook my hand and walked off.

The wind blew through me as the rain trickled down. The car was across the street, but the walk took forever. The upcoming Christmas is on a Monday. The problem of my ex still having lingering withdrawal difficulties a year later no longer mattered to me. I don’t have much, but I do have something to give. I will be at TASK first thing Christmas morning celebrating the memory of Maria.