KITTYS CHRISTMAS

                                                

 Christmas Eve to her was her birthday, her wedding day, the birth of her children, and a Mardi Gras celebration—all wrapped together in one euphoric day. It was the evening she had waited for all year and the next day was the day she started planning her next Christmas — often while I was out burning the torn wrappings and discarded boxes from the previous nights celebration. Nothing gave her more satisfaction or brought her more happiness than seeing those sparkling eyes on the kids and grandkids as we all sat around that tree, buried in piles of gifts. She had never gotten over that little kid mentality when it came to Christmas. The gifts that had been given to her by others remained piled alongside of her chair until all of the other gifts had been opened, and all of the thank you’s had been uttered. She didn’t want to be distracted; she needed to see each and every reaction.

She believed in quantity more than quality, although many of them were very nice gifts. She never wanted to spend her whole allotted amount on one wonderful gift because that brought happiness only once. She was a careful shopper always looking for bargains and coupons that would give her the most “bang for her buck.” You see, half price meant another gift could be purchased someplace. The purchases would be stockpiled in every closet, nook and cranny in the house until the tree went up, and then the stack would engulf the tree.

Then her life changed and the cancer that would take her home, to be with the real meaning of Christmas, spread throughout her frail body and last Christmas, she knew it would be her grand finale. The kids had all married long ago and there were other sides of the family to contend with when it came to spending Christmas together. For many years we had celebrated early or late, but always managed to get together as a family. But this year had to be special because she knew, and we knew, it would be her last one, and we would be all together one last time, on Christmas Eve.

So on the eve of our Savior’s birth, we gathered around her that one last time. We did our best to hide our emotions, because just below the surface was an agonizing sadness that said to all of us, this would never again be repeated. We smiled through our tears, as did she, and it was a night to remember.

I’m not sure what Christmas will bring me this year. I’ll try to spend some time with all of them. My tears are still there, held only in check by my resolve to move on with life—a feat I find daunting most days. I know it will be a big change for all of us but a necessary change just the same. I know that try as we may, we will never forget the happiness and the spirit that came alive with Kitty’s Christmas. We will probably never again know someone who got so much joy out of giving and making others happy.