As a child I went to Catholic school. I loved midnight mass and time with my grandma. She was my best friend. Mentor. Confidant and teacher. In her late 70s she went to live at St. Vincent’s retirement home in walking distance from my workplace. Our relationship deepened. My most memorable Christmas is the last one I spent with her in 1999. My extended family gathered at my parent’s home. Grandma took her seat at the head of the table. She had early signs of dementia. She quit smoking and drinking in her 50s. My mother called me into the kitchen to say, “I’m going outside to smoke. Don’t tell your grandmother. She thinks I quit.” I sat next to grandma. “Can someone please get me a drink?” she asked. My brother obeyed. My mother found Grandma sipping on a whiskey sour. “MaryJo come with me,” Grandma said. We went into my father’s office. She lit up a cigarette. “What are you doing?” I said trying not to laugh. “Your mother thinks I quit. I didn’t. You can’t tell her.” When we returned to the dining room Grandma lit up in the presence of everyone. My mother sat in disbelief. Whispering began. “What the heck is she doing?” “Has she lost her mind?” “MaryJo don’t let her do that.” I watched. “MaryJo, I’m ready to go back home,” she said. It was almost 10 pm. The drive to St. Vincent’s was slow going because of the snow. I was trying not to cry. In my heart I knew this was our last Christmas. I walked her to the door. She wore a light pink wool coat with a beautiful pink shell butterfly pin on the left lapel. Time stood still. I removed her boots. Put on her slippers. Together, arm and arm, we walked to her room. I waited while she changed her clothes and tucked her into bed. “I can stay with you for as long as you like.” I said. I loved her with every cell of my being. To me, her presence was a gift. I began to cry tears of sadness and joy all wrapped into one. That was our last Christmas. But her love lives on. This holiday season I invite you to enjoy the simple things. A child’s smile. Your husband’s touch. Special memories of those who have gone before you. Most of all, know that you are loved.