I decorated my mother's room at the nursing home for the holidays. I hung a colorful wreath on the wall. I put a small rosemary tree on her bedside table and decorated that with a string of red and gold ribbon. I made a holiday scene on the corkboard at the head of her bed. I sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" as I moved about with my decorating process. (I am not known for my singing talent but unfortunately for those who spend the most time around me-- I love to sing!) It looked like Mom was interested in my activities. She raised her eyebrows, indicating curiosity.
Putting up decorations in Mom's room is clearly more for my appreciation and for the enjoyment of the staff who care for Mom than it is for her pleasure. But this is the season for increased joy and generosity. I hope that our experience of the festive environment can be translated into something Mom experiences as warm and delightful.
I am reminded of my shopping trip back in the summer when I went to Target looking for a birthday gift for Mom. I started to cry right there in the store. The sadness came from realizing there was nothing I could find that she would enjoy. Macular degeneration has taken her sight. Her movements are random and spastic so she is no longer able to reach for or hold anything with intention. If she can hear-- her responses to sounds are not consistent. Most of the time it would seem she is deaf. I ended up purchasing a soft green blanket for her birthday and I think she enjoys it. I know that I enjoy pulling it up around her shoulders.
But there is a positive side to the sadness in this experience. While the store offers almost nothing that my mother can enjoy, there is much that my mother can still enjoy. What she now enjoys and appreciates is more valuable than those things we can get at the store. Money can not buy human attention and touch. It's just not for sale-- even at Target.
Life is teaching me so many important lessons these days. I am learning so much from my relationship with my mother. In spite of her disease and her dementia, she has much to give. The privilege of being with her these days has made me aware of the value of human compassion. Our relationship has shown me how to nurture and develop my own source of compassion.
This is the gift my mother is giving me for Christmas this year. She didn't spend a dime on it.
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1 comment:
Elaine - I loved your story about Baby Grace. Also, your devotion to your mother and the peacefulness with which you accept her infirmity should inspire anyone whose parent or loved one is similarly ill. It is too easy to become dismissive with them. As you know my Daddy had Alzheimer's as well, but was, in some bizarre way, himself to the very end. We were lucky as his suffering seems to me to have been less severe than that of so many others. I, too, felt blessed by his presence and appreciated what time I could spend with him. You are a good child. Keep telling stories, keep blogging (I really hate the word, don't you? Sounds like heavy shoes.) I'll be back here sometime soon. Love, David
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