A Funeral for Christmas

How does attending your grandfather’s funeral on Christmas Eve turn into a positive memory for a child? By God taking a potentially bad situation and turning it into something good. What began as a sad occasion wound up beginning one of my favorite Christmas memories.

My grandpa lived in Orlando, Florida, which was a pretty dull town in the days before Disney World. But because he was so much fun, going to visit him was like a vacation for us as kids. His health had been failing, and finally on December 21, 1970, he died. The rest of our family lived in Ohio and Indiana, where he was to be buried. How could a funeral a thousand miles away happen before Christmas?

All our pre-Christmas plans were set aside. For children who were excited for (and somewhat selfish about) Christmas, having the focus of attention turned to anything but the impending gift orgy was alarming. We had no idea how to react or what to do, but were instructed to stay on our best behavior since my dad’s father had just died.

My dad and aunt had flown to Florida to deal with my grandfather’s body and accompany it back to Indiana for the funeral. Preparations were hastily made and the cemetery was able to rip into the nearly frozen Indiana tundra to prepare for the internment ceremony.

On December 23, my brother and I put on our suits and went to the viewing. We were excited to see our cousins, some of whom we didn’t get to see often, and were continually tempted to play and have fun together. But we had to keep our somber faces on to ensure all the adults in the room that we were appropriately sad. Of course we missed our grandpa. But we hadn’t fully understood the finality of his death, and with the resiliency of children we could bounce back and enjoy being with our cousins.

On Christmas Eve morning we went to the funeral. Seeing the casket containing my grandpa’s body closed and loaded into the hearse brought the reality of his death home. There was no need to paste on a somber face today, because we were truly sad. I thought of the fun memories of times with my grandpa and how they were now done, never to be experienced again. The ride back home to Cincinnati was subdued, interspersed with occasional anecdotes of life with my grandpa.

We arrived home mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve. How do we change the mood? We were supposed to celebrate Christmas, but were not feeling very celebratory.

Then the call came. One of my dad’s friends and co-workers invited us to a Christmas Eve open house. Every year they invited their extended family for food and fun on Christmas Eve before heading to church. He knew that we would need cheering up, or at least a distraction, and extended the offer to join them.

We accepted their invitation and had a great time. The food was great, and I think I ate half the crock of hot dogs and bacon. They had a daughter near the age of my brother and I for kid stuff while the adults talked. We ended up having such a great time that the Christmas Eve open house became a new Christmas tradition. As the years passed, their children grew and brought grandchildren. In their hospitality we were encouraged to bring girlfriends when we got older, because everyone was welcome in their home.

Years passed and we eventually moved away, ending our annual attendance of the Christmas Eve fellowship. But this childhood experience has stayed one of my special memories of Christmas. We still missed our grandpa, but that occasion prompted a new Christmas memory. A time of loss became a new time of joy because friends extended love to us in a time of sadness.


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