My Most Memorable Christmas Gift

Being the slacker that I am, I am always behind on everything, but when this week’s challenge from Write-of-Passage came in, I knew just want I wanted to say and had to get it out now.

The Christmas gift that has meant the most to me over the years isn’t what most people would think. Granted I have warm memories of my first Cabbage Patch doll, my first Commodore 64 (look it up, you baby), bikes, video game systems and more. None of these presents has as much meaning to me as the bed sheets I got last year.

Yes, I just said bed sheets. Not the most exciting gift, I know, but the memory will bring tears to my eyes for the rest of my life.

Last Christmas was the most difficult of my life. Just 5 short months before, my mom suddenly passed away, leaving a hole in my heart that will never be filled. As Christmas was her favorite time of year, the pain was at times overwhelming for me.

The thought of not seeing the carefully wrapped gifts under the tree from her tore at my heart. As the holiday drew close, I could hardly bear the thoughts of going over to my parents’ house, only to have the holiday overshadowed by the empty space at the table and the overwhelming silence of a home without her laugh.

But as we all do, I sucked it up and put on a happy face for the kids. Though it was an enjoyable evening, something just didn’t feel right. Until it was time to open gifts.

As always, the kids went first, and I teared up several times, knowing how happy watching them opening their gifts would have made her. Her grandchildren were her whole life and it showed on her face, every time she looked at them. Never have a seen such pure joy.

Then dad started to pass around gifts for the adults. We all ooh’d and ahh’d and thank you’d our way through the pile of gifts, until there was just one package left. Dad picked it up and walked to me, with tears in his eyes. He handed it to me and said nothing.

I looked at the tag, and in dad’s handwriting, it said From: Mom. I looked back at him, teary and confused. He smiled, with one tear rolling down his face and said, “She bought that for you, before she was gone.”

I held it for a long time, knowing that the moment it was opened, I would never open another gift from my mom. Finally, I began to pull open the paper to see what was inside. It was sheets. And I could remember the very conversation that lead up to her buying them.

She called me just a few days before she passed, raving about the new sheets she had bought. I remember mentioning to her that I’d never had sheets that weren’t the cheapest things at Walmart and that I was jealous. She must have gone and ordered me a set right then. It was typical of her.

Those sheets meant more to me than any expensive jewelry or top of the line electronics ever could. They were my last Christmas gift from my mom.