It was three days before Christmas, and I found myself riding in an old Chevy truck filled with rusting animal traps. We traveled down the two-lane country highway on that gray, frigid day, mostly in silence. I was too lost in my own pain and grief to take much notice of nature’s gifts of winter.
My life was in complete turmoil. Just prior to that fateful holiday season, I thought I literally lived a happy marriage with a husband who truly loved me.
I was too blind to understand why, in the past few months, Jack had become cruel and unreasonable. It was only after he left me in September that I finally had to accept what I didn’t want to believe: Jack had returned to a former love, a woman he had never really left.
I turned to my family for love and support, which they provided in abundance. However, the holidays were too much for me to bear. Christmas not only represents a time of love and togetherness but Christmas Eve was my wedding anniversary. While others were singing carols and making merry, I would go behind closed doors to break down in tears. Although I found myself in that stage between grief and anger, I still could not bring myself to rail against the man I once believed was the love of my life.
My childhood friend Kathy lived in the house next door, and she had introduced me to Billy, a man several years our senior. Most of his education came not from books, but from life experiences. His red hair and beard had long since turned white, and he looked remarkably like Santa Claus.
Unlike jolly Santa, Billy was very quiet, although he would watch you intently with piercing blue eyes. Silent Billy, a Vietnam veteran, was still haunted by memories. Before Kathy left to visit family for the holidays, she instructed Billy to “watch over Angie” while she was gone. Totally unaware of this request, I was surprised that winter afternoon to find Billy at the door.
“Darlin’, you and me are going for a ride,” he said with a strong Texas drawl.
I jumped into the old truck, wondering what life had planned for me next.
Billy turned off the main highway and onto a long country road that eventually took us to a small, heavily wooded park. In the summer, this little park was filled with visitors. Needless to say, now Billy and I silently sat in the parking lot alone, with only the sound of the cold wind blowing around the faded, old truck.
Finally, Billy turned and looked at me. “Darlin’,” he began, “I have been watching you these past few days, and I recognize that you have been going through a war of your own. Years ago, when I returned from Vietnam, I was in bad shape, just like you are today. I couldn’t do anything to help myself because I couldn’t talk about the hell I’d just gone through. A very good friend recognized my deep pain, and he helped me through it. I want to pass that gift on to you.”
Billy jumped out of the truck, walked around and opened my door. I followed him into the woods, too numb to be curious. Suddenly, Billy stopped, turned around to me and pointed to a large oak tree in front of us. “I’m gonna stand over there, and you are gonna talk to me. But when I go over to that tree, I’m not Billy anymore. I’m Jack, and you have permission to say anything to me that your heart desires. You can do this ‘cause I am not gonna say a word back to you. I just want you to tell Jack how you feel. You will be perfectly safe here.”
Without another word, Billy walked up to the tree, turned around and faced me.
My eyes welled with tears. I just couldn’t do this. But Billy stood there, not making one move, not making one sound. Finally, I turned, closed my eyes and began talking to Jack. My words were soft, pleading for reason and understanding. After about ten minutes, I shook my head. Billy nodded, and I followed him back to the truck. Neither of us mentioned what had just taken place in the cold, lonely woods.
The next afternoon, Billy showed up again at my door. Again, we took the trip back to the oak. And again, I closed my eyes and started my pleas of reason. After a few minutes, the pleas became mixed with occasional words of frustration and anger. When I was spent, Billy took me back home. We did not speak of our secret.
The third day was very difficult, for it was the dreaded wedding anniversary. I was actually relieved to see Billy at my door that afternoon. I found myself walking ahead of Billy to our special spot in the woods.
Billy silently took his place in front of the tree. This time I stood in front of “Jack,” looking him right in the eye. “How dare you treat me the way you did, when I loved you so much.” I took a deep breath. “I was there for you all those times when you said the world was against you. You knew I would do anything for you, and you threw me away like garbage.”
By then I was feeling very angry. My voice, filled with pent-up emotion, became forceful and loud. I suddenly lost that desire to tiptoe around the situation. Every word I screamed carried away some of the incredible pain I had harbored for so long.
After several moments of release, I dropped to the ground. Totally exhausted, I sobbed with a sense of rebirth. Billy walked away from the tree, dropped to his knees and held me. With tears running down his own rugged face, the big Vietnam vet said in his soft drawl, “Darlin’, for two days, I stood here and listened to you plead your case, and that told me how lost you had become. I also knew that today would be the day that you would start to reclaim yourself. Now that you and I both know what a good and caring person you are, maybe you can start to see what Jack allowed himself to lose. You deserve to restart your life away from someone who willfully caused a beautiful young woman such hurt and pain. I knew you could do it.”
And with those words, the wind died and large snowflakes began to fall. I could actually feel my spirit being cleansed and renewed.
Billy eventually moved back to his beloved Texas. A few years later, I met and married a man whom I knew would truly love and cherish me for the rest of our lives. Once again, the holidays are a time of peace and happiness. And every Christmas Eve, instead of memories of sadness, I smile and remember my friend holding me in the soft December snow.
- Angie Rubel