In Loving Memory: A Holiday Tribute to Grandma Ardena
- Stacy & Amanda
- Dec 23, 2024
- 5 min read
This holiday season feels a little different for our family. It’s the first Christmas without our Grandma Ardena, our mom’s mom, who passed away this summer. She was the heart of so many of our family traditions—the warm light in every gathering, the quiet strength in every moment. While we miss her deeply, her presence is still felt in the love, faith, and traditions she passed down to us.
Our mom Donna, a Christian author of some amazing children’s books and two heartfelt novels for adults, wrote this story as a tribute to her mother. Her stories reflect the love and faith that have always been at the center of our family. If you’re interested, you can explore her books here:
The following story is a beautiful reminder to hold your loved ones close, treasure the memories you’re creating, and honor the ones who made it all so special.
The Missing Piece
The Christmas season was already here. Twinkling lights, decorated trees, nativity scenes, and toy advertisements were everywhere.
It was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but this year, it didn’t feel like it. Sitting in her recliner, she pressed the button to lift her legs and sipped her hot tea, her thoughts drifting to Christmases past.
As a child, Christmas had been filled with great love, small gifts, and unwavering faith. The nativity scene was always the centerpiece of their celebration. Her mother would set it up under the tree, carefully unwrapping each piece as if it were a treasure. Little hands weren’t allowed to touch, but she remembered peering at the figures of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus.
Her gaze shifted to her tree, twinkling in the corner. Comparing it to the one from her childhood, she realized not much had changed. Homemade ornaments hung alongside store-bought ones, creating a tree that was uniquely theirs. She thought of what made it so special: the little hands that had helped to decorate it.
An angel ornament caught her eye and made her smile. It had been a gift from her mother many years ago. With each passing year, it grew more precious, and now it held a bittersweet weight.
She took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. She’d spent most of her life’s Christmases with her mother. Whether it was at her mother’s home or hers, Christmas always meant being together. Her mother had lived a long and wonderful life, filled with love and laughter. But knowing she wouldn’t be here this year didn’t make it any easier.
Finishing her tea, she decided to bake Christmas dainties. Sifting through her cupboard, she settled on sugar cookies. As she rolled and cut the dough into trees, stars, and reindeer, she smiled at the familiar shapes spread out on the table. She remembered her mother teaching her how to make these cookies, her hands guiding hers as they pressed the cutters into the dough.
“Make sure to roll it thin, or they won’t bake evenly,” her mother had said.
The memory brought a chuckle to her lips. Her mother had passed the recipe to her when she was first married, and now she had passed it on to her grown children. Family traditions, family recipes, and family gatherings—all woven together to merge Christmases past with Christmases present.
As the cookies baked, she wandered into the living room and thought of her mom’s house during Christmas. Every December, her mother’s home would be filled with Christmas cards, strung on lines across the walls of the kitchen.
It had been her tradition for as long as she could remember. Cards of all shapes and sizes—some glittering, others simple—would dangle, creating a patchwork of holiday cheer. Her mom had taken such joy in hanging each one, treating them like precious decorations.
“Look at this one,” her mom would say, holding up a card with a snowy cottage or a nativity scene, before carefully pinning it in place. The cards would sway gently whenever someone walked by, filling the house with an almost magical charm.
The thought of those cards warmed her heart. They were a reminder of how much her mom had loved the little things that made Christmas special.
She still had so much to do before the big day. Trying to shake off her gloomy mood, she searched for a distraction.
Maybe making a saran wrap ball would help. This game, along with "Pass the Present," was a family favorite. Everyone joined in, from the littlest to the tallest, and the games filled their home with laughter year after year.
Last year, her mother had insisted on adding her twist to the game. Even though there was a $25 limit on gifts, her mother had snuck a $50 bill into a box of Toffifee chocolates. “Just a little something to keep them guessing,” she’d said with a sly grin.
She chuckled, remembering how her mother had also insisted on playing cards with the kids. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” her mother had teased when they tried to skip her turn. Her heart ached at the thought of her mother not being there this year.
Needing fresh air, she stepped outside. Standing on the deck, she pictured her children making snow angels and snowmen, their laughter echoing across the yard. The hoar frost dusted the trees, making the world look magical. She wished someone were there to share the breathtaking sight, but the day was silent, everyone busy with their own lives.
The crunch of her boots broke the quiet as she walked through their little acreage. It was the perfect place for a family—a garden, room for the children to play, and the songs of birds in the trees. Life was always changing, and she reminded herself to embrace the changes.
Humming Christmas carols, she wandered along the path, her mood lifting as she sang childhood songs her mother used to sing: You Are My Sunshine, Zippity Doo Dah, Amazing Grace, How Great Thou Art. Only the wind and the birds could hear her, but it felt comforting.
As she returned to the house, the sound of wind chimes filled the air. Smiling, she paused. The chimes were a gentle reminder of angels watching over her. She felt her mother’s presence so strongly in that moment, as if she were whispering, I’m still here with you.
Shaking the snow off her boots, she slipped them off and hung her coat. She fixed herself an afternoon coffee and grabbed a peppermint patty, her mother’s favorite. Sitting in her recliner, she exchanged a smile with her husband, who sat nearby.
Maybe I should wrap presents in Gramma’s room, she thought. But then she let out a sigh. No, not today. Maybe tomorrow.
Gramma’s room had been her mother’s special place when she visited, filled with her warmth and presence. The thought of stepping in there now felt too heavy.
Flipping through her book, she heard the unmistakable sound of children’s voices. Looking out the window, she saw her grandchildren climbing the steps. Her heart swelled as they burst into the house, their laughter and energy filling the space.
The circle of life was perfectly created. As she embraced her grandchildren, she thought about her mother, missing this year. But in her heart, she felt her presence. Her mother’s love surrounded them in memories, traditions, and the joy that continued through the family.
She decided then and there that she and her husband would continue to celebrate Christmas with both old and new traditions, filling the season with warm memories for future generations.
“Come, let’s play a game,” she said, gathering the children around the table.
As she looked around at their eager faces, she whispered, “Thank you, Mom, for all of your love, life lessons, joy, and faith. You will forever be in our hearts.”
The End
-Donna Simard
If you’re with your loved ones this Christmas, squeeze them tight and cherish your time together—you never know when it will be the last.
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