In my grandmother’s memory
I always think of Christmas as a joyful time; a time when my family gets together for a wonderful celebration. I remember my mother would always make cinnamon cookies in the shapes of reindeer, Santas, and other Christmas figures. We would always go to my grandparents’ house for Christmas Eve, and my aunts, uncles and cousins from my mom’s side would come, too. My dad would drive us over there, and my brother and I would enjoy playing with our cousins.
However, some of this changed when my grandmother became ill with cancer. She was very close to both my brother and I, for she was the only grandmother we knew since my father’s mother passed away before I was born. Even though she had cancer for awhile, I really remember her having it in the year of 1999, for it was our last year with her.
I remember our last Christmas Eve with her very well. My little brother dressed up as Santa Claus, and I helped him pass out the presents to everyone. I also remember how weak my grandmother was. She was so weak that my grandfather had to help her open her presents. I remember that I felt a mixture of joy and sorrow; joy because it was Christmas time, and sorrow because my grandmother was very ill. Just a few days later, she passed away in her home in our presence.
In spite of this, Christmas time is still a joyful time of the year. We still get together with our relatives on Christmas Eve. Everyone still has a wonderful time decorating the Christmas tree and opening the presents. However, I still enjoy Christmas partially because I know that my grandmother would want me to. I am very grateful to her, for she taught me more about love and compassion than most people have and probably will.