What Grandpa was Thinking

Years ago, when I was a little girl we spent every Christmas Eve at my Grandfather Bell’s house. My grandmother died when she was 51 (the same age my mother was when she died). My grandfather never remarried and his 4 children provided him with 10 grandchildren. When we all visited during the holidays the house was full of love, laughter and good food. My memories of those Christmas Eve dinners with my aunts, uncles and Grandpa Bell, as we called him, are kept in my heart in a special place.

 

Grandpa Bell had a specific chair he sat in and everyone else knew not to sit there. He also wore a hat most of the time but when he was inside the house the hat was hung up next to his coat. On Christmas Eve he would sit in the living room watching while all of us opened presents and the noise level escalated. He always got one or two boxes of chocolate covered cherries (his favorite). To this day when I see a box of chocolate covered cherries, I think of him.

A few nights ago we had a Christmas dinner in the same house where my grandfather lived and died. One summer night in 1980 he sat back in his chair after supper and never got up again. Since then my aunt and uncle have owned the house and last week about thirty of us descended upon them for food and fellowship. The food was great and everyone had a wonderful evening. But in the middle of the night, right after the blessing of the food, I felt a lump growing, swelling in my throat. The lump is my warning signal that I’m about to cry. While no one was looking I slipped away from the rush to the food and went and sat in Grandpa’s chair.

The room was empty. It was just me, the fireplace, the Christmas tree and a swirling room of faces of people who were not really there. My mother died in 90 and dad in 95. This year we lost Martha, my cousin and best friend. My mind drifted back in time and I closed my eyes. Every Christmas Eve Martha and I were together in this house, crawling around on the floor, opening gifts, playing hide and seek in the cubby hole at the end of the fireplace. Grandpa was sitting in the chair taking it all in and suddenly It occurred to me that I knew what Grandpa was thinking all those years ago on Christmas Eve.

I think he was talking to his wife Martha in his thoughts. “Look at them, Martha. Our children have given us ten beautiful grandchildren. Can you believe how God has blessed us? I miss you, Martha, but it won’t be much longer before I come to meet you. We sure had some good times in this house and now our kids and grandkids are still coming here to celebrate. I hope they come here for many, many more generations.”

My grandparents were faithful Christians and I knew he had all the chocolate covered cherries one person could ever want, but the real gifts, the real presents we gave him was something not wrapped up in boxes and shoved under a tree. We gave him our presence. That’s what a parent and a grandparent really want. To have plump babies plopped in our laps. To hear the squeals of kids playing chase. To see that your children and their spouses are getting along and enjoying themselves.

I opened my eyes and realized I had been crying. My cousin, Lori ,was standing there looking at me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. I didn’t want to freak her out so I didn’t tell her I’d been talking with dead people and imaging the faces of Christmas past.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Let’s go eat.”

And we did.

After dinner some of my relatives had to leave early to drive back to Tennessee. I hadn’t seen many of them for a long time and I hadn’t seen my aunt and uncle since Martha’s funeral in October. I walked them outside and hugged each of them tightly. In this fast paced world when every night and day is scheduled full of school events, dance practice, soccer games, and more, it’s hard to find even one night when everyone can be together to share a meal, conversation and make some memories.

They gave us the gift of their presence and that lasts much longer than a box of chocolate covered cherries.

Is there someone you know who would like to see you and you just haven’t had the time to visit lately? A grandparent, an elderly aunt, someone in the nursing home. They don’t need a present. They need your presence.

Go visit them. Not only will they feel better, you will too. Make time, slow down now while you can. Pretty soon we will all be rocketing through life at the speed of sound again. Back to work, back to chauffeuring the kids and grandkids to school and practices. The holidays give us a great excuse to really savor the moment and share it with someone who loves and misses us. Take advantage of it. The moment might not ever come again.