Christmas Past

Mom passed away several years ago. She fought an epic battle with Alzheimer's Disease and was highly functional for many years after the onset, I think mainly because she was a very smart, college educated woman that for years managed to hold off the ravages of the disease. But of course, she was finally overcome, and declined rather quickly near the end. It was a tragic end to a full life. Dad was beside her throughout the battle, with a patience and fortitude that was truly amazing, but it cost him. By the time we finally convinced him to get help with mom, he had compromised his health. Shortly after mom passed, he had open heart surgery to repair a valve damaged by a blood virus. He must have been ill for years, but forged ahead anyway. No one is tougher. He survived the surgery, despite his age, and recovered his health.

So, what does this have to do with Christmas? Well, dad is now struggling as well. We are getting care for him, but with brother Ed in town for Christmas, us three siblings decided to start looking through the house dad and mom shared for 30 years. There were not too many surprises, mainly the typical accumulation of 50+ years of marriage, with three active children. However, we did find something both unusual, somewhat disconcerting, but yet wonderful. Stuffed in a closet, addressed to Cindy and Dave, was a small pile of Christmas presents. They were completely intact, wrapped, and obviously old. We had stopped exchanging gifts with them many years ago, yet there they were. I hesitated, but with the encouragement of sister Karen, I put them in a big black garbage bag and brought them home.

I brought the bag downstairs and put it on my work bench, not only unsure what to do, but unsure of how to bring the discovery up to Cindy. Of course, there was no way she would miss something that big out of place and the next day she asked me about it. I was still unsure what I wanted to do and just said "you weren't supposed to see that. My mistake.", and left it at that. After a couple more days of indecision, I decided to tell Cindy the story of where the presents came from, and she had the same idea that I had. We would open them on "Russian" (Orthodox) Christmas.

Presents of Christmas Past

I brought the presents up and put them under the tree. They were a bit musty, the wrapping paper slightly yellowed and obviously old. Great care had been taken in wrapping them, and dad had obviously printed the names on the tags, his handwriting unmistakable. Mom may have been past the point of writing comfortably by the time they were prepared. However, her touch, her taste, and her choice were unmistakable in the gifts. It was bittersweet opening the presents, and Mom's presence as we did so, was overwhelming. I haven't felt her so close in a very long time, well before she passed, back to the years when she was herself. The gifts? For me, a beautiful blue sweater from Eddie Bauer. She loved blue, and loved me in blue. I will cherish it. For Cindy, a clothes steamer, perfect for a person that irons her clothes one more time before putting them on in the morning. Mom loved the way Cindy dressed, and admired her choice in clothes. Then, there were three joint gifts. We got fun and funky golf ball topped drink stirrers. Mom and Dad loved happy hour, and knew we both golf. Then, we opened a Santa toy car. We have a hot dog vendor truck that Mom always thought was hilarious. It is one of those cars that drives crazily, bangs into a wall or furniture, backs up, and continues on, all the while yelling "Hot Dogs!!" and playing silly music. This Santa car is the same thing, but with a goofy Santa behind the wheel.

The crystal bowl.

The final gift was a real stunner: A beautiful crystal bowl with a red stained glass trim. It perfectly matches a small plate that we had picked up at an antique show almost 30 years ago. Mom always admired that plate and I have no doubt that she purchased the bowl to match the plate. We were stunned. Cindy cried, I stared off into space, overwhelmed with emotion, desperately missing mom. I hadn't felt like this in years, and started to wonder if I really haven't fully dealt with losing her. Her  presence in the room, and my heart, as we opened these gifts was staggering.