Taking Time to Remember
My grandfather passed away a month before Christmas when I was ten. It was my first experience with the death of someone close to me, and my heart was broken in to pieces. Granddad had been living with us through the end stages of his lung cancer. Every evening before I went to bed, I sat with him to chat about the day. He used to watch a TV program called "Songs of Praise," and I remember the sound of a choir singing hymns floating around our home. Because of the season of his death, the carol, "In the Bleak Midwinter" has always taken me back to those precious evenings developing a closeness with my Granddad that was destined to break my heart. My father died on a Wednesday morning at 5:45am. For several months afterwards, on Wednesdays, at 5:45am, as I was running up the hill towards my home, I would hear a particular song on my playlist. The song continues to hold special meaning - along with several others - and I continue to hear it played a...