Praying For A Christmas Miracle

This article is a continuation from the previous post “Angels Around Us: The Second Opinion”

A SPECIAL KIND OF CHRISTMAS

After three weeks of a living nightmare, Christmas Day had arrived. Christmas is a day that our family looked forward to each year.  Weeks of anticipation to plan for a beautiful day together to see the awe in the kid’s eyes as they open gifts. It always warmed my heart to see the happiness of our family coming together and sharing gifts and memories. We always had memorable Christmases.

But this Christmas would be different. It would be a Christmas full of uneasiness.  Full of unanswered questions. Full of fear that it could be our last together with our matriarch. Our angel.

My mother’s mental capacity had continued to decline. She began to forget more and more things that were short term in nature. She couldn’t remember what she had for breakfast an hour ago. She began to forget where her room was. When she brushed her teeth, she began to put hand lotion on her toothbrush not realizing that it wasn’t toothpaste. She became tired of standing up while putting on her make up each morning.

Day by day, we realized something new had changed with my mother. She became frustrated that she couldn’t remember short term facts or thoughts. When she was around groups of people, she didn’t speak much because she had trouble pulling together what she wanted to say. So she just stayed quiet. It’s very evident that this isn’t the Melanie that we all know. She is scared. She doesn’t want this. And it has been so hard to watch in real time.

My mother continued to get poking headaches. They don’t last long, but she points at the left side of her head and I know that this horrible weed of a disease is shifting through my mother’s precious memories and her precious mind.

I get the chills deep inside my body thinking this is just a bad dream. That I will wake up knowing that this isn’t true.  And then I shiver knowing that this is real life. That what I am seeing is real. Watching my mother slowly slip away. Her mind slowly losing words and memories and details.

As I sat on the couch next to my mother while she was sleeping, I stared at the Christmas tree that she put up on her own several weeks before Thanksgiving. She had such an affinity for her beautiful tree. Ornaments hung of pictures with my sister and I. Of Brandon and Breanna, her grandchildren. Of her and Mike.  Ornaments that have been with our family over generations. And the porcelain faced angel that sat atop the tree with her wings illuminated by fiber-optic strands flowing out from behind her back.  This angel has been a staple for decades, just like my mother has been, watching down over each of us.

My mother’s Christmas tree is one of my all time favorite things. She carefully wrapped over a dozen strands of lights intricately around the thick, artificial branches creating a brilliant, multi-colored mirage as my eyes blurred together.

My mother had collected hundreds of ornaments over the years. Memories of vacation spots. Memories of my sister and I. Relics and treasures that she has owned for half a century. But this year I noticed that she hadn’t put up all of the ornaments that she owns. Maybe only half of the ornaments were placed the tree. And it made me wonder. Wondering if she forgot or if she planned it?

The classic Christmas movie, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, had begun to play on the tv. We quietly sat next to each other watching the show, her arm wrapped around mine. I leaned over and told her that I loved her. My mother’s eyes glanced over at me without moving her head.

“I love you too honey. Thank you for being here,” she said in low, monotone voice. I thanked her for being the best mother that anyone could ask for. That I will always be with her no matter what. Tears formed in our eyes simultaneously.  Its like our hearts are connected.  When she cries, I cry.

My gut began to hurt. My cheeks turned numb. It is hard to swallow seeing her like this. I can only think about the journey she must be experiencing?  What is she thinking? She must be scared. But then it doesn’t look like she can clearly see her situation. That she doesn’t know to be scared. Each day her mental capacity and understanding is a little worse.

I hold on to her with each hug not wanting to let go. After the show had ended, I sat in silence looking around the room. My eyes stopped at the photos of her placed about the large, white entertainment system taking up one of the entire living room walls.  I see how happy she is in each photo. Seeing her beautiful smile and remembering how together she always is. And now she isn’t able to do most things. How she most likely will never drive again. Or ever cook again. Life will certainly be different.

MY ANGEL

All day the thought was running through our minds if this would be the last Christmas with our mother. But we realized that no matter what, we had to make the best of what we had. Of the time that we had together. We had decided a while back, before all of this began with my mother, that this year would be all about the kids. And that we wouldn’t buy gifts for each other except the kids since we basically traded gift cards in year’s past.

Abby gifted some thoughtful, handmade ornaments to each of us with emotional and inspirational quotes about motherhood. We helped my mother open the heartfelt gifts and read the quotes to her.  Her eyes began to scrunch up with tears of love forming in the corners. All of us connected, the sign of tears tugged at our heart strings. We showered my mother with love and grouped together for an extended, emotional embrace. Each of us trying to block out any thoughts into the future.

After our group embrace, I leaned down to hug my mother again. “I love you Cory,” she whispered into my ear.  I wanted to freeze the moment the moment in time. To be frozen on my heart and my mind forever. To remember this moment for as long as I shall live. To remember that feeling of my mother carefully holding me back on Christmas Day telling me that she loves me with all of her heart.

It was in that moment that I realized that my mother will be ok no matter what.  It’s me that won’t be ok. But she will be ok. And she is here now. I can tell her that I love her. I can hold her hand. I can kiss her. She is not alone. This is what love is. Unconditional love with no restrictions. And while I had been praying for a Christmas miracle, my miracle came true.  My mother is my Christmas angel.  She is my miracle.

… To Be Continued