In July 2013, we received a call from my family events manager aunt, Nesha. He said it wasn't like us to be down and depressed. It certainly wasn't like us not to celebrate Christmas. We spent hours on the phone with her planning for the Christmas ahead. My aunt informed the whole family about the dinner we had planned and the special surprise for my grandmother. Of course it would be at my mother's house, in the kitchen. It was obvious that Christmas wouldn't be the same without my grandfather. As the food was being prepared, my grandmother was pulling into the driveway. He entered the house and hugged everyone. We all looked at her like something was wrong. She asked us why we were looking at her so strangely. My mother told her to turn around. There it was, a memorial to my grandfather in his favorite spot in the kitchen, with the tallest chair in front