Deck the Halls
With Mom and All
I thought of skipping the Christmas craziness this
year. I thought that it would be too
much for me to handle.
A month ago I
remember crying sadly at the thought that I would forego the joy that the sight
of a decorated house brings to me. I
thought that I would skip the annual event we always hold at our home. This year would be different. This year, the halls would not be decked, the
stockings would not be hung, the packages would not be wrapped, the cookies
would not be baked. No cards, no
letters, no phone calls, no parties. I
looked around. There was so much to do,
so much to think about, so much effort and energy to expend just to bring this
tradition to life. "I'm getting too old for this!" I told
myself. I can't handle another thing;
not with all that I have to do caring for my mother. I had almost convinced myself that I was
right not to enjoy the spirit of the Season.
But then... Skip said something
to me about the tree, the decorations, the family gathering, the holiday guests
and entertaining that we do. He wasn't
going to push it and I knew that he would support whatever decision I made
regarding the next few weeks. I looked
within myself. There was a sadness. We would be missing so much. We had already sacrificed and missed
out. I looked at my mother who knew
nothing of what time of year it was. I
reminded her that it was the Holiday Season.
She nodded her head without comprehension or memory of Christmases
past. My sadness grew into
depression. The emptiness deepened. The darkness was about to swallow me up. I was resigned. My misery was all-consuming. I rationalized: being a care giver is
draining both physically and emotionally.
It would be easily understood if I explained to everyone that this
year...just this once I would not be able to 'do' Christmas, that our annual
family party could not take place, that I couldn't bake the Christmas bread,
that I wouldn't make the sausage dip or the pine cone cheese balls. They would kindly accept that the home would
be undecorated and that I would not have time to shop for presents. Yes, they
would accept it, but...
I began to realize that I couldn't... I wouldn't accept it
myself!
I made the decision.
"Let the lights be hung, the wreath be placed on the
door, the candles lit, the presents wrapped, the cards written, the cookies
baked, the tree trimmed. Let the
ornaments, the decorations, the special reminders of the season be placed
around each room. Yes! Deck the Halls." Immediately my mood changed. I was excited, pleased, and exhilarated. Suddenly I felt youthful and energetic.
It was the day after Thanksgiving. I sat down in front of my computer and
shopped for Christmas gifts. Immediately
I felt better. I baked some cookies and
called a friend who offered to help us decorate the house. Arrangements were made. Within a week Christmas preparations were
underway and the house was brimming with Christmas spirit. What a joy!
Now with just two weeks to go before Christmas day, I make
lists and check off the things I have done and the things left to do. It takes more organizations than usual. There is no time to spare. My mother requires more and more of my time
as I watch her closely, trying to protect and run interference. She paces like
a caged animal, fingering touching, tasting everything. I stop her from tumbling down a step as she
is oblivious to height changes. I catch her before she touches the hot pot,
trips over the dog bone, runs into the table with her walker. I admonish her for blowing her nose in her
shawl or for throwing her panties in the trash can. Safety, cleanliness, humanness...they
are things I strive to preserve at great emotional and physical sacrifice and
cost. I am torn between decorating the
cookies, and watching Mom, providing her with a distraction, an activity,
something that will fill the time. I
compromise. I will forego the special
chocolate bars that everyone expects me to bake. I will not wrap the packages with elaborate
decorations and will use more gift bags.
But there will be no compromise on the traditions -- family traditions
will be celebrated regardless. This is
my treat to me, for me, and by me.
I put Mom to bed singing some Christmas carols as I help her
get undressed. She sings along smiling
broadly. It has been a long exhausting
day but as I close her door my spirit is lighter. I walk back downstairs, pour myself a
nightcap and sit down in front of the Christmas tree. A calmness spreads over me. There is no negativity. There is no darkness, sadness, despair. For a minute I am a child thrilling at the
twinkling lights. I forget everything I
have left to do to simply enjoy the moment and the lights...and the joy...and
the season...and the knowledge that we are all together. It is the magic of the season; and it heals,
cures, reassures, stabilizes, and reminds me of just how grateful I am to have
this time, this moment, this love, this joy, this life.
