This is our first Christmas without my grandfather. It's funny how the older you become, you're more thankful about what you still have rather than what you will get. My memories turn into the most treasured presents, hidden in the house like Easter eggs full of pennies. An old photograph I discovered in a drawer shows my thirty-year-old grandmother on the steps of her house with my mother and aunt. When she looks into the camera, she does not see her face age, does not wonder how many years she will have left, about being eighty and afraid. She only sees my grandfather on the other side, pointing, waving with his free hand. Say cheese.To read more, go here.