It's Christmas Eve, the night we celebrate Christ's birth.
We listened via zoom to Grampa read the Christmas story from the scriptures, and then a recording of Grandpa Bear reading The Testimony of Mary in 2010 when you were just tiny.
In the background, I heard your vent beep and your pulse/ox go off. And throughout it all was the whoosh of your machines. Now you're gone and so is Grandpa Bear. And Gramma.
And I find I can hold peace and pain, joy and sorrow, all at the same time.
Mary brought me roses tonight, yellow with red tips. Gramma's favorite color was red (probably still is) and she loved yellow roses best, so a combination of her two favorites. They brought both tears to my eyes and a smile to my heart.
Gramma was all about all things Christmas. She loved the lights and Santa and magic, and she rejoiced in the Savior's birth. I have no idea how many nativities she collected but they came from all over the world from their various travels. I honestly don't even know how many I own.
Tonight yours and Michael's bears overlook the soft nativity she made over 30 years ago for you kids. There aren't so many presents in the living room this year, or as many bears. For the first time since Deborah was born, we don't have any kids here at home on Christmas Eve. and only three will come over for breakfast tomorrow, although Jonny's and Deborah's families will join us at some point.
I miss you, Aaron. I miss Mama.
Are you celebrating in heaven? I expect there's a marvelous party there. Are you and Gramma singing with the choirs? You both loved music so much here, I can't imagine that it hasn't continued and been magnified in heaven. Do you sing alleluias and hymns of praise? Does it sound even better than music does here?
I love you, Aaron.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Mama
Born that man no more may die;
Born to raise the sons of earth,
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