bitter sweet memories.

My DS(ister) died in a road accident nearly 24 years ago - and there are still times when some small thing will suddenly touch something inside me and my eyes will fill.

About a month ago I had to attend a meeting with someone involved with a charity my DS worked for. He asked me how I had got involved in the charity and I said briefly, that DS had worked for it. When I mentioned her name, it turned out he had known her well, really liked her and we had a lovely discussion about her - and I cried in the car all the way home.

My lovely Mum died on 4 December 2004. She gave me lots of hand-written recipes and whenever I browse through my recipe box and find one, or whenever I make one, I hear her voice again and see her cooking or baking. She still feels very near even after ten years.

My dad died over forty years ago and I miss him every day. My eldest two were still babies when he died. My only regret In life is that my children and grandchildren did not get to know

However, my GCs do know him in a way. My sons and my son in law are three wonderful dads, they are kind and gentle and have his stupid sense of humour.

This Christmas for the first time both my sons are rostered off duty, so my whole family will be together for Christmas day.

When we raise our glasses I will be toasting all you wonderful GNs and thinking of all those who can't be with loved ones, for whatever reason.

My friend and her sister were taking a bottle of sherry to the crematorium yesterday to drink a toast to their mum who died some years ago. Just hope they don't get picked up as winos!

I only have to hear White Christmas by Bing Crosby and I am back in the kitchen at home with my mum singing along. I definitely get my love of singing from mum and probably something from grandparents but sadly they died before I was born .

I have a framed black and white photograph of Granny and Grampa in my bedroom. I adored both of them and they had a huge influence as to who I am today.

Yes, bitter sweet. It's strange how those who died years ago have a way of getting into our minds when we least expect it. Christmas seems to be a time for remembering.

My grandfather died on Christmas Eve 50 years ago. I remember his presents left under the Christmas tree because no one wanted to remove them. He was a very gentle, courteous man.

Among other family photos, my sister sent a scanned photo of my Welsh grandfather, William Jackson, who died in 1946.
I was only 6 then, but this picture brought tears to my eyes as I remembered my lovely grandfather.

Bitter-sweet indeed. Eleven years ago I had a call a few days before Christmas to tell me my aunt had died - it was not unexpected - and my uncle was unwell with a very bad cold. I went to Yorkshire to look after him and organise the funeral as I was the nearest relative geographically. Eight days after my aunt, my lovely, kindly, generous uncle gave up the struggle and we buried them together just before New Year. Without my sons' help I couldn't have got through it. I also had a cold and my voice went completely. The 'boys' arrived and took charge of all the catering arrangements - even replaced a rather manky toilet seat. It was a terrible Christmas, but at New Year, the family made it up to me, as did my very good friends. I still miss my aunt and uncle so much - after my parents died, we always spent Christmas together.