I may be the middle aged wife, mother, nurse and woman of the house but on Christmas I still feel like little Jenny, that American born Sicilian girl, growing up in Buffalo, New York.
As I write this, Barbra Streisand’s version of My Favorite Things echoes in my mind. My dad is a huge Babs fan so that Barbra Streisand’s 1967 Christmas album was frequently played in our home.
My heart yearns for my Grandma every year at Christmas time. Widowed in her late 40’s after my grandfather’s sudden death three years before my birth, my maternal grandmother lived with us until she remarried when I was a teenager.
Granny was a devout Catholic and she was a great influence on my early life as a Catholic. We would go to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve with her and because of that I do not feel complete on Christmas without attending midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. She cried every year at Christmas Eve midnight Mass because when she was only nine years old her own mother died of a heart attack while walking home from Christmas Eve Mass in the snow.
In my mind I still see Granny waiting at the bottom of the steps for my brother and I on Christmas morning. She would quietly lead us to the beautifully lit Christmas tree while we waited for our parents to wake up.
Even through her own heartbreak she poured her love into everything she did for us and she always made Christmas special. I will carry that with me forever.
thatnursewrites 