For the past six Christmas Eve's, I have visited with someone who was very special to me.
I also visit more often throughout the year but Christmas Eve was always our very special time together.
In the years past, our Christmas Eves were filled with so much excitement. We'd attend Christmas Eve service together and then go to her home for her specialty fruitcake as well as other snacks. Then our family would all sit next to the Christmas tree and she would choose someone to read the Christmas story from the Bible. It was always such an honor as being chosen as the reader.
But now on Christmas Eves when I visit, I sit on the cold bench at the foot of her grave and tell her everything that has been happening in my life since the last time I visited. The air is cool, quiet, peaceful and calm and I do much reflecting while sitting on that bench.
This Christmas Eve as I parked my car at Bonaire Cemetery, I saw a young boy holding an arm full of flowers pushing his bicycle through the cemetery.
"Hello", he said as I got out of my car. "Hello", I said. "Are you bringing flowers for someone special?"
"Yes, my grandmother", he said quietly. "And I'm going to clean off her grave, too."
I was surprised to see that this boy had come alone to a cemetery when most children would be frightened.
"When did you lose your grandmother?" I asked.
"When I was seven", he said.
"How old are you now?" I asked.
"Nine", he said as he continued on his way clutching tightly to the flowers he had brought as he pushed his bicycle to his destination.
I walked on to visit with my mother and sat down on the bench at the foot of her grave.
As I sat thinking of things I wanted to tell my mom, my attention kept being redirected to the young boy. I watched as he meticulously cleared the leaves and the acorns from the grave of his grandmother. He took special care in making sure that it was tidy before kneeling down and placing the flowers at her grave.
I then remembered the small angel statue that I had brought with me for my mother. Brushing away the leaves and acorns also, I then knelt down and placed the resting angel statue on to her grave.
As I stood up, I saw that the young boy had finished with his visit and had gotten back onto his bicycle and rode off into the woods. I watched him as he rode out of my view.
I sat back down on the bench and thought about the young boy and the scene I had just witnessed. Here it was Christmas Eve, a time when most children are filled with excitement and wonderment of what gifts Santa will leave for them under their tree, this young boy had traveled alone, bringing a gift for someone that he loved.
It was such a bittersweet thing for me to see. I know the loss this young boy feels, especially at Christmas, but seeing that his priorities were taking care of those he loved over his own desires at the time, warmed my heart on this Christmas Eve.
Donna Hunter Glenn is a weekly columnist for the Houston Home Journal and Warner Robins Times Newspapers and is the principal decorator and owner of Addressing Rooms Interior Decorating and Home Staging in Warner Robins, GA.
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