Our Christmas traditions have changed dramatically over the years. Some traditions have faded to black and new traditions have begun. We used to spend every Christmas Eve with my mom's side of the family. I grew up with 11 cousins and one sister so our family gatherings were loud, fun, laden with favorite foods, and completely packed with people. The dads watched a lot of football. The moms did all the cooking and cleaning. The kids played. Then on Christmas morning, we journeyed out to spend the day with my dad's small family.
As the years passed, I began to participate more in the preparations, engaging my love for baking and meal prep. I enjoyed nothing more than baking and cooking for dozens of family members. But, our gathering became considerably smaller year after year, as cousins got married and eventually we celebrated only with my mom's twin sister and her family. Finally, after a falling out with some cousins, that tradition ended as well.
Now, as my parents stroll into their 50th Christmas together (49th as a married couple), I am merely a facilitator of joy for them. I realize that the time I have left with them is short and I also realize the time I have left preparing a Christmas is short. So, I sleep very little, I bake and cook a lot, and I try to cater to the wishes of my parents as often as possible. We do not spend Christmas with my mom's family at all. My dad has no family left. But on Christmas Eve, my best friend and her family joins us for dinner and Christmas day includes church and an early dinner with my sister and her family.
Christmas is sometimes more difficult than joyful these days. The dissolution of our family base has been most difficult for my mom but now, I think it might be toughest for me. It is so hard to watch as mom understands less and less while she forgets more and more. I miss having her help stuffing manicotti noodles for Christmas Eve dinner and squeezing out the press cookie dough. I wish she could still go out for a walk in the snow with me. But we do what we can which usually includes watching a Hallmark movie and drinking a little Rumchata. It's hard for dad too as he watches over her medicine routine and helps her help me so she can feel like she is a part of getting ready for the holiday.
Yet, we keep Christmasing on... We decorate until her heart's content and bake her favorite cookies and visit with the few friends who will pass through before the new year. We sit together to write our Christmas cards and she complains about how I vacuum. And we find happiness in the very little moments and the memories that come up for her in the process. Most of all, we hope. We hope that in spite of the difficulties and the changes and, often, the isolation, this is NOT the last year. We hope for many more.
Until tomorrow...
Showing posts with label elderly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label elderly. Show all posts
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Monday, July 3, 2017
Compassion Training
When I was a little girl, my best friend and I would walk the neighborhood some days and visit all of the old people. The tiny, black-haired lady across the street, whom I fondly referred to as Aunt Thelma, made us toast with blackberry jam while we sat eagerly at her black and white and gray chrome dinette set, our feet dangling from the tall, cushiony chairs. We would chat with her while she drank her tea and after the toast was consumed and the tea was drank, we moved on to the next house.
Down the street a a little way lived the sweet widow, Mrs. Caudera, and her little poodle who yapped incessantly. My friend and I knocked on the heavy wooden front door and Mrs. Caudera and her pup greeted us excitedly and welcomed us inside where she would give us candy. Most of the time the candy dish was filled with pastel-colored, melt-in-your-mouth mints and we gladly gobbled them up before bidding farewell.
On to the Vlahopolous's house where there was applesauce awaiting us! The petite elderly Greek couple lived right next door to my parents. They were soft spoken but appreciative when we carried their mail in from the porch and plopped down on their couch in the living room. They always had some applesauce on hand to share.
Times were different back then. Parents didn't worry about sending their children outside to play because the village was helping to raise them. Neighbors really knew each other and took care of one another.
I wish we would return to times when, above all else, we cared about one another. My parents taught me to value time spent with others. Granted, when I was six and seven years old, I enjoyed the candy and the jam and the applesauce as much as the companionship of my elderly neighbors; however, that experience proved to be a training ground of compassion for my future.
Down the street a a little way lived the sweet widow, Mrs. Caudera, and her little poodle who yapped incessantly. My friend and I knocked on the heavy wooden front door and Mrs. Caudera and her pup greeted us excitedly and welcomed us inside where she would give us candy. Most of the time the candy dish was filled with pastel-colored, melt-in-your-mouth mints and we gladly gobbled them up before bidding farewell.
On to the Vlahopolous's house where there was applesauce awaiting us! The petite elderly Greek couple lived right next door to my parents. They were soft spoken but appreciative when we carried their mail in from the porch and plopped down on their couch in the living room. They always had some applesauce on hand to share.
Times were different back then. Parents didn't worry about sending their children outside to play because the village was helping to raise them. Neighbors really knew each other and took care of one another.
I wish we would return to times when, above all else, we cared about one another. My parents taught me to value time spent with others. Granted, when I was six and seven years old, I enjoyed the candy and the jam and the applesauce as much as the companionship of my elderly neighbors; however, that experience proved to be a training ground of compassion for my future.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Everything is Preparation
Six years ago at this time, my family was moving my dad into a rehabilitation facility so he could regain his strength and learn to walk again after having a hip replacement. Mom had started showing definitive signs of her Alzheimer's at the same time.
Every morning, I was driving mom to the nursing home to sit with my dad while I went to work. In the evenings, I left work and headed back to the nursing home where we would eat dinner with dad and stay with him until about an hour before bed. When dad was ready for bed, I would drive mom back home, log on to my computer and work until about 11PM before hitting the sack and starting the process all over again.
While it was a difficult transition for all of us, I am grateful for how far we have come since then. To a degree, life is harder for us now. Mom has no real decision-making ability any more, even though she is still largely self-sufficient and dad is using a walker. But I have left my home and I am living with them which is a situation for which I would have never been prepared had we not experienced it a bit back in 2010.
I never fancied myself the kind of person who could take care of my parents but it is my primary duty to ensure they are safe and healthy and able to enjoy the time they have left on this earth. I am still learning. Every day, I see something else that needs to be changed or cleaned or replaced in the house to make their home more manageable or easy to live in for all three of us. And I am constantly learning how to navigate the challenges that come when the child is, generally, in charge of the parents. I would never want to do 2010 again but it confirms for me that everything is, indeed, preparation for something.
Every morning, I was driving mom to the nursing home to sit with my dad while I went to work. In the evenings, I left work and headed back to the nursing home where we would eat dinner with dad and stay with him until about an hour before bed. When dad was ready for bed, I would drive mom back home, log on to my computer and work until about 11PM before hitting the sack and starting the process all over again.
While it was a difficult transition for all of us, I am grateful for how far we have come since then. To a degree, life is harder for us now. Mom has no real decision-making ability any more, even though she is still largely self-sufficient and dad is using a walker. But I have left my home and I am living with them which is a situation for which I would have never been prepared had we not experienced it a bit back in 2010.
I never fancied myself the kind of person who could take care of my parents but it is my primary duty to ensure they are safe and healthy and able to enjoy the time they have left on this earth. I am still learning. Every day, I see something else that needs to be changed or cleaned or replaced in the house to make their home more manageable or easy to live in for all three of us. And I am constantly learning how to navigate the challenges that come when the child is, generally, in charge of the parents. I would never want to do 2010 again but it confirms for me that everything is, indeed, preparation for something.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)