The colors of the holidays could not dispel the grey in her soul. Two that she loved had passed during the previous months and their memories seemed to drape, over what should be a glorious time of year, a thin veil of melancholy on her life. Her continual stream of activity: the baking, the shopping, the wrapping, none seemed to enable her to rise above the shroud of what could only be a re-occurrence of mourning; that which she thought she had, if not moved past, at least buried deep beneath the facade of her smiles.
Soon Christmas day would be upon her and the house would be filled with some of the ones that she loved, at least with the ones still left behind. The spirits of those gone would take it upon themselves to return into the corners of her heart and the memories of holidays past would once again begin to fill her with, if not total happiness, with at least some peace.
Those that were gone, would never totally leave her to bear the sadness alone especially during the holidays, for in their lives they had been there for her and in their deaths their love was enough to carry and sustain her through the grey.