I've been thinking alot about my family members that have "gone home" before me. I miss them all greatly but I know they are safe, happy and most definitely in a better place.

I always think back to certain memories of each person. Things that just stay with me over the years no matter what.

My favorite memory of my Dad is a funny one. I'm sure he didn't think it was so funny at the time but he did manage to laugh about it (afterwards). He was putting my son's bike into the trunk of his car to take it to be repaired. When he lifted the bike up off the ground I guess he sucked his stomach in a little too much and his trousers ended up around his ankles! I have never heard my two boys giggle like they did then. They were just 5 and 9 at the time. They still talk about that day! Poor Gramps.....just standing there at the back of the car with the bike in his hands, his pants on the ground and all of us laughing at him! Good thing he had a good sense of humor!

What's your favorite memory? It doesn't have to be funny. I have plenty that aren't funny but I always seem to go to the humorous ones first.

Oh my, I've got so many wonderful memories of so many wonderful people that I could go on for pages!!

One of my many favorite memories of Dad:

We were little when our dog Rags had to be put to sleep. Dad took her with him to work that morning, to drop her off at the vet. My brother and I cried all day, of course. It was maybe 5:30 (winter, dark, snowing) when Mom looked out the window and said, "Daddy's home from work."

We didn't care. We were still busy moping around, feeling sad about Rags. Mom forced us to come out on the porch and greet my Dad. I'll never forget standing there in the snow, watching him come walking up the path with the new puppy sitting on his shoulder, bright-eyed and wiggly.

It was a surprise to Mom, too. He didn't want to come home empty-handed. He was my hero then, as always.

One of my favorite memories about my sister:

I was only about six or seven and she was about 17 or 18. She was supposed to go out with some boy that she had apparently canceled the date with (fibbed about being sick).

She was home and had been downstairs doing some laundry. The stairs that led to the basement were off of our hallway (first door on the left). For some reason this boy still came over to our house and I let him in (via the kitchen door). When she came running up the stairs and opened the door to the hallway (which could be seen from his viewpoint in the kitchen) she took one look to her right and saw him in the kitchen, stepped back and promptly tumbled down the stairs! I felt so guilty!

My Mom and Dad ran down the steps to see if she was okay. The boy tried to go down there, too, but my Mom told him she was fine and it was best if he just left. I don't know whatever happened to him. I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw him standing in the kitchen!

I don't know why, Kelly, but memories of my loved ones who are gone, even the great ones, make me sad to recall. I guess it's because they are gone.

I keep all of these loved ones in my heart and memories pop up, especially at Christmas time. But it hurts too much to dwell on them so I'm busy building on my children's and Grandchildren's good memories.

Please forgive me for not taking part in your wonderful thread..

P.S. Every time I watch "A Christmas Story" about the 40s, I bawl like a baby.

My best girlfriend when I was young lived in an apartment above the tavern her family owned.
Shortly before Christmas, I heard her dad coming up the stairs, saying in a deep voice, "Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas!"
I peeked down the stairs, and saw Santa walking up the stairs. I ran inside the apartment, exclaiming, "Santa's coming up the stairs! He's REAL!" (I'd just discovered you-know-what, and was dismayed).

"Santa" turned out to be one of those plastic life-sized santas that you put on your lawn and plug in to light it up. Her dad was carrying it up the stairs in front of him.

I was so let down...but it showed me how a child can suspend disbelief so very easily...

I'm not sure if there is a favorite memory. My Dad was a Southern Baptist preacher and we didn't have a lot of money. In fact the term 'a lot of money' shouldn't even be part of the equation. We were dirt poor but we had no idea we were because we were so happy. We had our family so therefore we had everything we needed. For Christmas we all got one gift. We used the old Sears catolague until there was no piece left. We made paper dolls, furnished doll rooms and everything else out of that poor catalogue. Our Dad would take scrap pieces of wood, plane and sand them down and we made city buildings out of them for our younger brothers gifts. I ironed my brothers diapers so I could have enough money to buy them a new pair of plastic pants for Christmas!!! Our Dad was our biggest play thing. We had a nice fenced in yard in one of our parsonages that we made our camp in. Dad would put up tents by putting a blanket up against the fence and we slept in those. The only way we could do that is fi slept out there with us. He never made it through the night. After laundry us 5 kids enjoyed the big old laundry bucket for a swimming pool. We had a garage that should have had a big wind blow it don but Dad built my sister and I a life size man with fully hingable joints. We bandaged that poor guiy, his name was Harvey, we found berries, ground them up and gave them to him for medicine. My sister and I were going to be missionary nurses in Africa! We only watched TV on Saturday. There was some Lawyer show on and the first half hour was the action and the second half hour was the trial. I didn't know if I was a big girl and be with my sisters or a little girl and be with my little brothers. So I would watch the first half hour and then go outside.

Those good old days are over. Kids have all of thier electronics. But of course I like then also! But I do't think kids wil ever enjoy the times when we had nothing but just didn't know we had nothing.

My dad passed in 1995. I miss him. I didnt have enough time to get to know him. He was a drunk, but lived a horrible life, and I am not sure I would not have made the same choice to find a way to escape it if I had to live it too.

I remember he took me to the dentist. Afterwards we stopped at a bar. (dont tell mom) he got me a soda with a cherry in it. My lip was numb and I had never had novacaine before. every time I tried to drink the thing, it dribbled down my chin. I was simply unable to keep the drink in my mouth. Getting more on me than in me, he chugged his beer and we headed home. Mom saw the condition of my shirt and asked what happened. He lied and said he stopped at the gas station to buy me a soda and I spilled it all over me in the bouncy truck. Later on mom asked me which bar we went to. I remember thinking how brilliant he was to think up that story so quickly. I thought mom was magic, cause she saw right thru him.

I wish I had spent more time talking to him as a young woman, and not being so angry at him. His birthday was the 24th of December and this time of year makes me miss him.