When I was young, Christmas Eve always meant heading over to my grandparents’ house where my dad’s side of the family would gather. For many years, we’d head out to eat at a Chinese buffet or cafeteria. Then, we’d head back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, where we’d be in for a long night of gift exchanging.

Somewhere along the way, a “white elephant” of sorts was added to the mix. What began as a small bag of odd gifts quickly grew to an hours-long game of “what on earth IS this?” As our family grew over the years, so did Christmas Eve. It was something the children looked forward to, while the adults put a lot of money, thought and effort into making sure each child had their fair share of presents.

My grandparents are gone now, and sadly, so is this family tradition. Though, I can still hear my grandma telling my grandpa which present to give so-and-so.

“Schatz!” she’d yell, her term of endearment for my grandpa (it’s like saying “honey” or “dear” in German). “Why don’t you give Mary that gift. No, not that one. THAT one.” And, of course, my poor grandpa had no clue which one she was referring to. But, that didn’t matter to me, because I just loved to hear them bicker lovingly.

The two of them were a big part of my Christmas memories growing up. They gave and gave, and I was surely spoiled but grateful. It was my grandparents who got me my first CD player, some gorgeous porcelain dolls for my collection, the coolest clothes and the latest toys. But, it wasn’t the things I received that I remember most. It’s the memories we made of being together, celebrating Christmas and sharing our love for one another.

Though traditions have come and gone for our family, and the holidays just aren’t the same without them, my grandparents taught me what it means to give with love and generosity. Christmas Eve, for me, has been quiet the last few years, but the memories will always be a part of my new traditions.