Christmas Eve Day

It was Christmas Eve day. I was at work. I worked from 5am-1pm. Our store manager, Deb, has a tradition. Every Christmas Eve day she cooks breakfast for all of the workers. Deb is an incredible cook, so naturally this is what we all had been talking about for several days. The breakfast tradition was so great that we had many people tell us that even though they had the day off, they were coming in for breakfast. My manager, and good friend, Becky, was one such person. Connie and I could handle everything without her, but she was going to come in to meet up with us during our lunch time, so we could all enjoy Christmas Eve day together. The time that was chosen was 9:30.
Around 8:45, we got a call from Becky saying she had errands she needed to run after we ate breakfast, so would we be able to eat at 9:00? Both Connie and I agreed, and we met Becky back there at 9:00.

The food was just as we had known it would be. There was tons of it laid out everywhere. There were 6 different kinds of eggs, there was sausage, bacon, cinnamon rolls, breads, multiple juices, and the hashbrowns, lots and lots and lots of hashbrowns. Deb knows that I like hash-browns, so as soon as she saw me, she waved me over and began heaping them on my plate. I didn’t say no. I had been waiting all morning for food, and they smelled incredible. I took some bacon, eggs, and joined Becky and Connie at the table. We were carrying on lively conversations with everyone who came in the break room. We were making jokes about how great it was that Shopko gave every single one of us tomorrow off. And when someone asked me how I was doing, I replied that I was great because it was Christmas eve day, and how could you be sad on Christmas eve day? I finished up my hash-browns to the great amusement of Deb, who told me to get my skinny self back in the adjoining room where the food was laid out, and get myself more hash-browns. I took orders for more drinks, and happily obliged.

I heard the page over the intercom. I hate that about myself now, I can’t help but listen to pages in any store. But the page was so normal “Deb call 451 please, Deb 451 thank you” We knew that 451 signaled an outside line, but no one thought anything of it. I was in the other room, and I could see from where I was pouring drinks Deb stand up and go to the phone that hung on the wall. My attention went back to the drinks. The next thing I knew she was yelling “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. No. No. No. No. It’s not true. Oh my God” She hit the wall near the phone, and yelled again. Both rooms became deathly silent. No one knew what to do. After the longest moments in my life, she hung up the phone, and turned to the people in the other room. She spoke, I could see her lips moving, but from where I was, I couldn’t hear what she said. And then suddenly, I heard shrieks from the other room. They were of differing pitches, sounds, words, but one thing was clear, everyone was hurting. I didn’t know what to do, should I walk back in the room with the drinks, or just stand awkwardly in the other room. I took the drinks and walked back in. If you could have seen these people’s faces when I left the room, and when I returned a few moments later, you would have been shocked. It was deathly silent in the room. But it wasn’t silent. People were moaning. One lady had her face on the table, and you could hear her sobs. Becky was sitting shaking her head back and forth, back and forth. Connie sat with a look of astonishment, no tears, no anger, just shock. Another lady sat and stared at the wall, silent tears streaming down her face. One of the men had pushed his food away, and sat staring at the table, no tears, but his hands were shaking. Deb was standing near the phone, her hands rubbing away the tears. But it was useless, her tears kept coming, I wondered why she even tried to wipe them away. I sat down, 3 drinks in my one hand, and a plate of hash-browns in the other. I sat in between Becky and Connie. No one said anything. I looked to Becky. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she met my eyes. I almost recoiled. The look of pure pain in her eyes was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I asked the only words that could form in my mouth, “What happened” She just looked at me, she brought her hand around to rest on my shoulder. That might have been the most frightening gesture I’ve ever received. She was comforting me before she told me what was wrong. She said, “Joanne’s daughter and grandbaby were instantly killed in a car accident this morning. Joanne is on her way to the hospital, but they already told her that they’re both dead.”

You don’t know Joanne. But I do. I know that Joanne has one daughter, Shannon. I know that Joanne was so proud of Shannon. I know that Joanne was so proud of the way that Shannon was working her way through night school. I know that that was the reason that Joanne encouraged me so many times to keep working through school, to never give up, to not quit, because she knew how hard it was for Shannon to go back. I know that after 7 years of marriage, of tests, of praying, of trying, Shannon and her husband Ed, happily announced that Shannon was pregnant. I know that Joanne announced excitedly over the intercom system that come June, she was going to be a Grandma. I know that Joanne would constantly ask me about the infant apparel clearance, she wanted the baby to have enough of everything. I know that Joanne went to Josh, her manager, and told him that he had to give her every Thursday off once the baby was born, that was her babysitting day. I know the day she got the call that the baby was coming, she could barely finish a sentence she was so excited. I know the day she came back to work after the baby was born, she brought her baby book that she was building for her granddaughter. I know the times she would bring in the baby on her day off so we could meet and play with her. And I know the day that Deb received that awful call. I know that in our local paper in their specialty “Baby’s 1st Christmas” they had a picture of Shannon and Ed’s little girl. I know that that same paper was the one that had pictures of the accident. I know all of those things, but you don’t.

I feel like I should have finishing thoughts. But I don’t. I’m not sure how I should finish this post.