Dear Mitch,
As the holiday season unfolds,
my thoughts often turn to The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. The imagery in that story feels especially poignant this time of year.
The little girl, cold and alone,
looks in on the warmth of a family celebrating Christmas—a home filled with laughter, love, and light. She has nothing but a single matchstick to bring her fleeting moments of warmth and memories of her lost family. That longing, that ache, reminds me so much of grief during the holidays.
I feel like I’m standing outside, looking in.
It’s like watching the world continue with its festive traditions—families whole and together—while I ache for the days when we were all gathered, laughing, sharing meals, and making memories. The emptiness of missing you feels so heavy during this season, yet I sense you near, offering comfort in your own quiet way.
My matchstick is the candlelight.
After you died, I was gifted a candle, and now I have three of them scattered throughout the house. When I’m struggling most with the weight of my grief, I light one of those candles. The flicker of the flame reminds me of you—your soul, your light, your presence. That soft glow tugs me away from the shadows, encouraging me to step toward the life you wanted me to continue living.
I remember your words:
You once told me that you hadn’t realized how hard it would be for me after you were gone. You apologized for the heartache your absence would bring, but you also reminded me of all I still have to offer. You believed I had so much more to give, to share, and to build, even after your death. Those words stay with me, nudging me forward, even when my own flame feels dim.
Every night, I say goodnight to you.
Your picture is beside my bed, and as I kiss it softly, I watch the candlelight flicker, imagining it carrying my love to you. That light reminds me to dream of hope, not despair. It holds the promise that, with time, my own light will burn brighter again.
Your love continues to guide me, Mitch.
Through the grief and the darkness, you are my matchstick.
