Christmas seems like one of those things that are big enough to work in the ALZ world. Big enough to remember. Celebrated from birth by my mom - so that should still be in her wheelhouse, right?
Not so fast there bub! Christmas is almost too big. It's so confusing - some times of the day mom is 12, sometimes she's 17, sometimes she's 82, sometimes she's 40 - and all of those ages come with something. Something that was missing at our home.
She spent most of the day in her younger years and that meant Grandma Perry coming to pick her up. She kept asking and it broke my heart. How do you tell someone that their loved one has been gone for 50+ years? Especially on Christmas. The older years meant that she was still independent - she had sent me money and was off to "do her own thing" with her peers. We don't have any of those here. The 40 year old Christmas only appeared once. I think she thought my daughter was me - we were handing out presents and Peyton was sitting closest to mom, so she gave her all of her gifts from under the tree. It was the kindest I've ever seen mom act towards her granddaughter. Her smile was genuine and she seemed to feel like she was a part of our family. It was pretty awesome!
The gifts were a bust. Not at first - she loved them all, but then they were unwrapped and taken back into her room and "where did these come from" became the favorite question of the day. She devoured the chocolate and other candy in her stocking, but the other gifts are stacked in her chair - and she is quite suspicious of them and their origin.
I fancied myself brilliant with a Shutterfly book of memories from mom's first year here - with our faces, our places, our names, charmingly-worded explanations that might help her remember things and lots of pictures of her and Sophie - her two favorite things. She loved it. She took her time, she read every page, she smiled and then she wrapped it back up in the wrapping paper and took it to her room and set it down with the other things.
I keep trying to slip it into the basket of her walker - thinking she will start to think it "belongs" in there and will look at it often and it will help her or entertain her or comfort her or be a companion of sorts.
I'm not giving up, mind you, but my goodness, this is a bigger task than I imagined. She has a mind of her own and she DOES NOT WANT to have Alzheimer's. She has been fighting it by ignoring it and lying about it and punching it in the face for as long as I can remember - easily a dozen years. Maybe this little memory book is too much of a reminder of what she doesn't remember.
I think that's the problem with Christmas...she is sad, mad, angry, frustrated, embarrassed that she can't remember if Christmas has come or gone or what year it is or did she go shopping or ... well, so many things. So Christmas was something to ignore, brush off, discount, be disgusted with.
I am torn. I love our home at Christmas. I love the decorations and the way everything looks in twinkly lights. The kids love it too. I am raising a couple of big Christmas nerds, just like their mother! But I will breathe a sigh of relief when I get to put it all away. And mom won't know it's gone or that it was ever there, but she will be just a little bit happier and a little bit more at ease, even though she won't know why.
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