Red Peppers, Sweaters, and the Death Angel

Today while I was making my lunch I realized a red bell pepper that is perfectly ripe and unmarred is not only sweet, crisp, and tasty, it’s a work of art. With it’s bright-colored skin and jaunty green stem cocked to the side, it’s like a nutritious, delicious bit of Christmas.
“And that’s all I have to say about that.”
Okay, this would be sad if it weren’t so happy. As I neared the end of my workout this morning, I began pondering what I wanted to wear after my shower. Since we keep our house on the chilly side, I wanted something cozy. The weather has only recently turned cold in East Texas, so I’m just now pulling out the really warm items. I tried to picture the sweaters in my closet, but I could only think of a few, and they didn’t appeal. Which brings us to the sad-but-happy part. Imagine my delight when I looked in the back of my closet and saw not one but two old, comfy, favorite sweaters I’ve had for probably at least ten years. It was like getting a present. Again. For the tenth time. And still being surprised.
I’m wearing one of them. Happily.
Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon decorating the house for Christmas. I usually load the CD player with Christmas music to create a festive atmosphere, but this time I chose a different line up: Eisley’s Room Noises, Eisley’s Combinations, Sufjan Stevens’ Seven Swans, Arvo Part’s Te Deum, and Damien Rice’s O. It was an amazingly effective decorating soundtrack, though I will admit I almost dissolved into tears at one point–hanging photo ornaments and the ones my kids made through the years while the heart-breaking strains of Te Deum swelled around me in glorious stereo.
We usually top our tree with a straw angel George’s sister, Judy, bought for us when she lived in Germany. This year, though, I chose a different topper. To explain why, I need to back up.
In 1993, when Luke was eight, he came home from school with an angel he’d made in art class. It was a simple design, crafted from muslin with a twig-wreath halo and a small red felt heart glued on its skirt. He proudly showed it to me, and I oohed and aahed appropriately.
Many of the readers of this journal don’t know much about Jacob before his brain injury in 1996. For our purposes today, let’s just say he was smart and witty, but could be a little ruthless with his younger siblings. He took one look at Luke’s artwork and said, “That’s the death angel.”
Luke burst into tears. “It is not the death angel!”
Jacob: “Yep. The death angel.”
Luke: “Mo-o-o-om! Jacob said my angel is the death angel.”
Me (trying not to laugh): “Jacob, it’s not the death angel. Look, it’s a sweet little angel. It even has a heart on it.”
Jacob (matter-of-factly): “It’s the death angel.”
When I decorated for Christmas that year, I made sure I gave Luke’s angel a prominent place. All throughout the holiday, Jacob kept calling it the death angel. And the next year, when we pulled out the decorations, Jacob said, “You’re not going to put that death angel out again, are you?”
Luke: “It’s not the death angel!”
Jacob (making it fly around the room): “OOooooOOO! I’m the death angel. I’m coming to get you!”
Luke: “Mo-o-o-om!”
Jacob only had one more Christmas after that to torment Luke before the water washed his ruthlessness away. But the death angel has remained a part of our Christmas every year. (And, yes, we all call it the death angel now.) Yesterday when I pulled it out of the box, I instantly knew the straw angel from Germany wouldn’t be making an appearance this year. For the first time in twenty-two years, Luke will not be able to come home for Christmas. So it seems only right that, in his honor, a simple muslin angel with a red felt heart should crown our Christmas tree. It may not be very fancy, but I’ll tell you this much. Anyone messes with my treasured memories, and you best be wrestling with the . . . um, with the . . .
Hmmm. Can’t think of a good analogy. Any suggestions?