12 Days of Christmas Memories - Day 2

Day 2

My next Christmas memory is gathering at my Mamaw and Papaw's house on Christmas Eve to hear my Papaw read "The Night Before Christmas" to the grandkids.

Every Christmas Eve my mom's side of the family would gather for a sort of a pre-Christmas celebration after I visited my dad's side of the family earlier that day.  The kids would yell and play and possibly break something.  The adults gathered together and shared stories of how hard it was to buy that certain toy this year.  But by the end of the night and before everyone was ready to go home, Papaw pulled out his trusty old book and would read us the story of "The Night Before Christmas" to us in his scratchy, Santa Claus-sounding voice.  He'd take his time and show us the pictures, like he'd been doing this kind of thing his whole life.  When he was through all the grandkids packed up and went home to wait for Santa, just like Papaw had said.

When I was 12 he was diagnosed with cancer and was told he didn't have much longer to be with us.  His last Christmas was in 1999 and we all did our best to make it a special one.  Somehow Papaw had lost his special book of "The Night Before Christmas" and Mom and I traveled to over 6 stores to find a replacement.  That Christmas Eve night I was the only grandkid that had made it out there for a visit, since everyone else was coming in the morning.  Before I left that night, Papaw took the time to read me the story one last time.  I was cranky and wanted to go home, but Mom insisted I sit and read with him.  Weak from cancer and radiation, he took his time and expressed feeling in every page he read.  When he was through, he wrote a not inside the front cover and gave the book to me to keep.  I hugged him good-bye and Mom and I went home.  He made it through Christmas, but he passed away shortly after the new year.  I never forgave myself for acting like such a brat and almost missing the chance to hear him read to me one last time.

Now I have the same book he read to me from in my Christmas box.  Every year I look inside and read where he wrote, "Merry Christmas, Stina - Love Paw-Paw, Christmas 1999".  While Jeremy and I don't have any children to read the story to, we always pull the book out and go through the pages and I tell the story of how my Papaw used to read it to me every year.  I'm pretty sure he knows it all by heart now, but he still lets me tell it.