Christmas Eve had always carried a bittersweet weight for me—a time meant for joy, yet often shadowed by the pain of love lost.
Three years ago, I had offered a coat to a homeless woman with eyes that struck me with their haunting familiarity.
When I opened the door that night, I was stunned. The woman I had helped on what felt like a whim had reappeared, not seeking charity but bringing gratitude and a story I could hardly fathom.
Christmas had once been the happiest time of the year for my wife Jenny and me. Jenny, my high school sweetheart, had a laugh that could dissolve the worst of days and a presence that turned the simplest moments into cherished memories.
