'Tis a season filled with tears

Christmas has never been the same for me; four years ago I had the worst Christmas ever.

My grandfather was the best, we got along so well. We were able to have fun together and do projects in his shop that he built. But then he got sick. The doctors diagnosed him with prostrate cancer. After he had beaten that, he had a stroke and had cancer that spread throughout his body. He had quit his smoking and drinking habits, even though he he make his own wine.

While he was going through chemo, he had to learn all over how to talk in English, since his native tougue was Greek. I remember when I would go over to my grandparents' house and think that I was a jinx because every time I was there, it seemed like he felt even worse than the day before. It would always make me mad when he was in the hospital, because he would be so sick that he would be in intesive care, and I was too little to go and see him.

Then, on Dec. 19, 2000, my mom had taken my sister and I to go to my Nana's house, because my grandpa was in the hospital and she wanted to go and see him. When she came back, I asked her how he was and she told me that he wasn't with us anymore. I was so upset I left my sister downstairs and ran into my Nana's apartment crying. I didn't want to believe that he was gone. I remember all of this so clearly, and I remember spending the Christmas before the past away in the hospital with him and my whole family.

Christmas that year wasn't that fun. He had only passed away the week before and it still hadn't sunk in. Nobody that year really wanted to do anything, and I felt bad for my little sister and three little cousins because even though Kelli and Jessica were born then, they were too young to remember him, and Steven and Christopher weren't even born yet. This is still so fresh in my memory, but I wish it wasn't. I wish that he was still here.

When the rosary and funeral came, I couldn't even go up to the casket. It hurt so much that I was crying throughout the entire rosary and funeral. I didn't want that day to be there. I didn't want to be doing this. I wanted to go over to my grandparent's house and see him there sitting in his old blue chair watching TV, and falling asleep. I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare that I was trapped in.

Now a days, I can't watch home movies or see pictures with him in it. I'll start crying and remembering all the pain I went through those two years that he was sick. That month that year was horrible and I relive it everyday in my mind, and all those same emotions come right back to me as if it were just yesterday that it happened.

Stephanie Panos
Galt