A Different Christmas

The wrappings are thrown away and extra ribbons stored for another celebration. Although pearl lights still reflect off my mantel, Christmas has come and gone for 2011. It was a joyous time with family and a wonderful reminder of the baby in the manger who became the Savior on the cross.

But this Christmas was different than any other. For the first time in my life, my mother did not give me any kind of gift. Usually, each of her children receives some money or a roll of stamps or a desk-top calendar – something practical to use throughout the year and remember who it came from every time we use it.

Not this year. Dementia and Alzheimer’s have stolen the traditions of the past. Oh yes, I know that Christmas isn’t really about gifts, and I am truly thankful for all the blessings God has given. But it was so odd to not receive anything from my mother – for the first time in my life. It’s not that she has lost the capability to give or the joy of the season. She simply forgot to buy something for her children. She even forgot what day it was. We had to remind her over and over and then remind her when it was done.

I so hate this disease. I hate how it steals the recent past and the vitality of the present from an active and intelligent person. The far past is still intact as Mom remembers Christmases long ago and the young faces of departed loved ones. But now she has forgotten how to bake peppernuts and where to put the pans we use for cooking. She does not recognize the plate we filled with deviled eggs, although it was given to her just one flip of the calendar before. She may remember the dolls she once bought for my sister or the basketball she wrapped for her young son, but she doesn’t remember December 25th and has to keep looking at the calendar to find out what day it is.

This Christmas, Mom forgot it all. My sister bought the present for Mom’s grandson and wrote her name on the “From” tag. We showed Mom how to make deviled eggs, drove her to the family gathering and reminded her to take her own presents home. This Christmas was different – blessed and joyous – but sad, because it marked another notch in the fatal gun of dementia and underlined the truth that Mom is disappearing day by day.

I hope and pray that my son will never face a Christmas where I forget him. May the Lord of the manger return before that happens and bring true peace to every heart on earth.