Yet Another Christmas Story

by Bradley Davidson

 

     

       “It’s Christmas Eve, Grandma.  It’s Christmas Eve!  Aren’t you excited?”, the young girl wailed with glee.

            “Oh yes I am.” Grandma said  “And I can see you are just so excited you are going to bust a seam”

            “I am excited, Grandma.  But my clothes are fine, seams and all.”

            Grandma’s smile dropped a bit.  “It’s just an expression, honey.” She sighed and continued,  “I guess from the old days.”

            The little girl skipped off into the kitchen to share her excitement with all those preparing the feast for the next day.

            Grandma sat by herself in the living room, her face gradually transforming to a blank stare as she thought about Christmases through the years and all the friends and family involved.  Most had passed on.  There were only her kids and their families left which she was very grateful for, but she missed all the others.  There were so many shared memories and the rich history of friendship.  She missed talking of the old days with someone that was there.  She thought long and hard of the happy past and all the people she had known missing each and every one.  “They are all gone.” she thought to herself and continued daydreaming soon nodding off into a late afternoon nap.

            “Grandma, Grandma”, she heard faintly.  “Why are you so sad?”  Her granddaughter asked.

            Oh…,” she replied.  “I miss my friends.  I love you all dearly, but I miss my old friends.  They are all gone now.  No one is left to share the memories.”

            “I know, Grandma.”

            “How do you know?  You hardly knew any of my friends, and I bet you don’t remember your Grandpa much at all. How can you understand my longing for my connections to the past?”

            “Dunno except to say children can be wise beyond their age, if you only listen.” The little girl said slyly.  And I am actually here to show you how wrong you are about them being gone.  Come with me and I will show you.”

            “What?”  asked Grandma confused.  “What do you mean?  Go where?”

            “Just pretend this is a rendition of a Charles Dicken’s story and follow me.” She replied with authority.  “Come along.”

            She led Grandma out the front door and they walked through the night until they came to a well-kept house with a man sitting on the front porch.

            “Recognize this?”  the little girl asked.

            “Why yes.  This is my house I sold after your Grandpa died.”  She replied.

            “And who is that on the porch?”

            “Why, ah…, that’s your Grandpa.  Mercy me.  That’s Earl!” she replied as her excitement rose.”

            “Go talk to him.  I’m sure you’ve got a lot to say.”

            The old lady shuffled up to the front porch, sat beside her Earl and they started talking like nothing was strange about all the time that separated them.  They just picked up the conversation where they left off years ago.  After a while Earl went inside and the old lady walked back to the little girl.

            “Well, that was delightful.” Grandma said with sincerity.  “That Earl.  He hasn’t changed a bit, but he had so much to say.  So did I!  How is that possible?  He’s been dead all these years.”

            “Has he?” the little girl asked tilting her head ever so slightly.  “Come on, let’s go visit your best friend Ethel.  She lives just down the street here, right?”

            They shuffled down the street until they came to another well maintained house with a large green lawn.  Grandma walked up to the door and soon was let in by elderly lady.  The night slowly passed and after a while, Grandma returned to the little girl.

            “Oh, that Ethel.  She’s always got the stories.” Grandma declared. “How can she tell me such fresh, new stories.  I’d never heard any of those.”

            “Ah,” the little girl replied.  “If you listen, you will hear.  Now let’s visit some other of your old friends you miss so much.  Follow me.”

            And the pair shuttled through the night visiting people Grandma went to school with and worked with and just knew through all the years of her life.  It was a busy and seemingly long night, but it came to an end, eventually, as they made their way back to the house where they had started.

            “Well thank you for a wonderful evening.” Grandma said to the little girl.  “I’m just not sure how this is at all possible.  All these people have passed on, some long ago, and I’m talking to them with fresh conversations and new stories.  I just don’t know what magic you are performing here tonight.”

            “It’s not magic, Grandma.” The little girl starts.  “It’s real as real can be.”

            “I doubt that.” Grandma says.  “All these people are dead.”

            “Not really.  You see, when someone physically dies and you go through all the motions of a funeral and burying them or scattering them about, that’s just a part of it.  They are not really dead.  They have left pieces of themselves all over, with everyone they have met or dealt with or people they don’t even know but have affected them somehow.  They are in the things they have built and made and created.  They are instilled throughout the fabric of the world, mainly in the hearts and minds of those who know them.  They live on and can’t die until the last person that knows them dies or the last person of the person that knows them or so on.  So, you see, these friends of yours aren’t really dead because they live on in your heart and mind as well as those of others.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.  The memory of them lives on in my mind.  But that does very little if I want to visit them like I did tonight.” Grandma says.  “They were telling me stuff I’ve never heard before just like they used to.  They surprised me with their news and stories.  How is that possible?”

            “It’s possible.” Said the little girl.  “One just has to listen.”

            “Well how can I visit?  Can I call them on the phone?  Can I visit whenever I want?  What is this strange place we walk through?”

            “So many questions.  Could you see them whenever you wanted before?  Could you always get them on the phone?  Not likely.  But they were there when you needed them, right?  At least most.  They were there when you didn’t expect them, to your dismay sometimes.  That’s how people are.  They are not there for your bidding.”

            Grandma thought about this for a few moments then hesitantly agreed.

            “They will be there.” said the little girl.  “And they will talk with you and tell you things you don’t know or have forgotten just like they always have, and you can take comfort in it.  You just have to listen.”

            Grandma turned to asked more question and was surprised to see her guide had vanished.

            “Grandma, Grandma.  Wake up!” said the little girl excitedly.  “We’re going to open some presents!”

            Grandma awoke slowly from her nap, cheeks flush, big smile and surprisingly refreshed.  She was ready.  And she was listening.

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