The 13th Gift (24 page)

“Her life was short, but we learned so much from her. We wanted her life to make a difference,” Susan told me over coffee.

As parents, we teach our kids to walk and talk, ride bikes, play games. The Armstrongs passed on to their children a legacy of goodness and giving. What an amazing heirloom.

“They were all I could ever have imagined and more,” Nick said, after meeting the couple.

Most of the families that they visited never learned the identity of their true friends. I feel lucky to shake their hands and say thank you. I also wanted to know why the secrecy was so important to their giving.

“The premise was always to take away the pain. We hoped the mystery would provide some relief, especially if there were children involved,” Susan said. “We didn’t want people to know it was us. This wasn’t about us. It was about the families and the devastating loss they were facing.”

Nick and I drove away from the meeting with George and Susan smiling and energized, but with one nagging question. The members of the Armstrong family were second-generation gift givers. Now, we wanted to know who started the tradition.

“We would never have thought to do this on our own,” Susan had said.

It had taken me thirteen years to track down our gift givers. The trail of clues leading to the Armstrongs’ true friends dated back to 1989. I told myself it didn’t matter, that I should be satisfied knowing the ending of our story. But it did matter.

Once again, the Armstrongs guided me.

Though they didn’t realize it until the twelfth day, the Armstrongs had known their gift givers. All those years ago, when Susan had sought answers after Andrea’s death, she had left a message on a perinatal helpline at Miami Valley Hospital.

An expert in grieving had called her back, and the two women became friends.

Sue Hundt wasn’t then college trained in counseling or psychology, but she had been one of the first volunteers to answer the helpline when the hospital launched the service in 1987. She and husband Ron were well-known at the hospital after eight pregnancies, including two sets of twin boys.

Only two of their children had survived.

“You don’t have any training for grief. It just happens, so you’ve got to feel your way,” Ron said. “We felt we had a strong story to tell, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There are ways to survive that awful moment.”

It was Ron, a city planner and artist, who came up with the concept to use “The Twelve Days of Christmas” carol. He is Santa Claus. The Hundts began their annual Twelve Days of Christmas tradition in 1988, and they have never missed a season.

Today, their family includes son Adam, adopted daughter
Marilee, and Mollee. As with the Armstrongs, the Hundt children are all veterans in the Secret Santa tradition.

“So many people helped us grieve after the loss of our twins; they helped us exorcise the demons,” Ron said. “We wanted to find a way to give back.”

From their own experiences, the couple knew that healing took time; one gift wouldn’t be enough.

“We liked the song. We wanted to do something that was drawn out, but simple, that could involve their kids if we could,” Sue said. “Part of the fun has been parking the car up the street and waiting to see them open the door and find the gift.”

Now a special needs teacher, Sue was a stay-at-home mom and babysitter in the early years of their giving. Money was tight. She worried about the cost, but Ron reassured her that the gifts didn’t have to be expensive.

“The gifts didn’t have to be big. It was mostly, what do they need?”

These true friends begin looking in January for a family to visit when the holiday season rolls around. Their church community, coworkers, and the perinatal helpline where Sue still is a volunteer have helped them identify families who have suffered a loss or just need a hand.

The Hundts tailor their gifts to meet the specific needs of each family, such as food, diapers, and toys. On the eleventh day, they leave a Nativity set. The baby Jesus figurine comes on Christmas Eve, when they always reveal themselves.

“This is how I can say our children’s lives helped someone else,” Sue said.

This Christmas Eve I will gather my grandchildren around me, Ben’s Gavin and Gracelynne. In the glow of the tree lights, I will retell the story of the thirteen gifts and show them the homemade cards. Ben, Nick, and Megan will join in the tale, as they always do, embellishing each of our exploits, especially mine. This year, for the first time, the story will have a proper ending.

Meeting these two couples was a blessing. There were no awkward moments. We were friends after all, even before we met. I had always imagined them as superheroes. Learning they, too, had been vulnerable only strengthens that image of them in my mind.

I have walked away from our encounters touched by their happiness. These couples sought new ways to make the holidays matter despite their own heartbreak. Through them, I learned how to celebrate the season while keeping Rick’s memory close. The power of their gifts lies in the understanding that joy and sorrow can coexist comfortably and without guilt.

I couldn’t help but wonder if their joy in life had been rooted in their good deeds. Recognition for their actions had never been part of their mind-set. Call it giving back or paying it forward, they had taken the kindness shown to them by others as a challenge to live a worthy life.

They have more than met it.

Now it is our turn to try.

We don’t all have to become gift givers dashing across darkened lawns in ninja outfits to experience the high that living a
generous life can bring. But even in moments of deepest grief, we can turn off self-survival mode and share with others all that we’ve learned along the way.

Folks have asked me over the years if my children and I became gift givers. I tell them we remain inspired by our true friends, but I leave that mystery for others to solve.

Then, I lure them into a conversation.

I tell them one of the greatest gifts we all possess is the ability to give. Wealth isn’t a prerequisite; compassion and a kind heart are all you need. What better way to honor our loved ones, past and present, than to reach out and change a life for the better? And, the holidays are a perfect time to look outside of ourselves and be a true friend. A legacy of generosity can create memories that reverberate beyond the moment and outshine the brightest of heirloom ornaments.

This book began many years ago in the pages of my journal, where I felt free to share every dark moment and fear. It took encouragement and support from family members and friends to bring it to life.

Thanks to everyone who helped me through those early difficult times as I struggled to stand on my own as a single parent. Tom and Charlotte, David and Dorothy, Ron and Mary, you guys are the best. To my sisters Carol and Lori, who began supplying me with notebooks and pencils in grade school, you will always be remembered and missed.

My gratitude and love go out to Kate, who coerced me back into college, gave me my first computer, and remains my greatest teacher and friend.

Many thanks to the members of the Key Lime Writers’ Group, Janet, Rosalie, and Mary Lou, who dried my tears as I began writing raw with grief. Their gentle prodding and continual feedback compelled me to the keyboard from first chapter to last.

To my former coworker Margo, thank you for listening to me as I worked through this story out loud and then on paper. You had the courage to tell me when I was moving in a wrong direction both with the book and in life; I know it takes a dear friend to do that.

To my agent Hannah Brown Gordon of Foundry Literary & Media: thank you so much for believing in this book. And to Kirsten Neuhaus: thank you for helping to find wonderful homes for this book around the world. To my supporters at Harmony
Books, including publisher Tina Constable, editorial director Diana Baroni, publicist Lauren Cook, marketing director Meredith McGinnis, and all of the sales, production, and promotion teams—I really appreciate your early enthusiasm about what this book could be and now is. To my editor, Leah Miller: you made this writing journey feel effortless, and I am grateful. I also send a huge thanks to the editors and reporters at the
Dayton Daily News
, who pushed me to dig for details, write lean, and tell the truth.

To the Antioch Writers’ Workshop, where I found my voice and learned to write creatively, thank you for providing me with opportunities to develop through your workfellow program. Lessons I have gleaned there fill every page of this book.

To my beloved Rick, Ben, Nick, and Megan, along with my grandchildren Gavin and Gracelynne and their mom, Cynthia, thank you for giving me reasons to rejoice in life every day.

Finally, I send out a prayer of hope and gratitude for gift givers everywhere. Your generosity of spirit fuels us all forward.

Joanne Huist Smith

Dayton, Ohio

April 9, 2014

Joanne Huist Smith
is a native of Dayton, Ohio. She earned a bachelor’s degree in English at Wright State University and worked as a reporter for the
Dayton Daily News
. She is the mother of three and grandmother of two.