I have a private journal in which I pen my more personal thoughts, and I’ve done some writing over the past couple of days. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you may already know that the holidays can be a difficult time for me because I miss family members who are no longer here, as well as family members who are far away geographically.
I try my hardest to find the joy in the season, and mostly I’m successful. But sometimes that joy is tempered by sadness - a sadness that hovers there, just under the surface, just waiting for me to let down my guard.
On Christmas Eve day, I found myself reminiscing about Christmas past. I wrote this in my private journal:
Today, I read a blog entry from a friend, in which she wrote about visiting her father-in-law at the nursing home where he is being cared for. Another of our mutual friends had commented to her entry, and wrote about her yearly visit to the local nursing home, to sing Christmas carols for the residents. She wrote that the residents loved the singing but loved the company even more.
I started to cry when I read that, because it triggered a memory of my mom, and what a loving and caring heart she had.
When we were little, my dad was laid off for several months. He picked up some odd jobs here and there, but - for the first and only time ever - my mom had to help out financially. My mom found a job working in the laundry room at the neighborhood nursing home.
My mother was such an outgoing and loving woman, that she soon took on the chore of delivering the clean laundry to the residents. Their clothing items were marked with a name or a room number, so she knew who they belonged to. She always spent a few moments with each person, because she realized that whether it was an hour or 3 minutes, they were appreciative of a smile and a “How are you today?”.
One Halloween, when we were fairly young, my mom asked the manager if she could bring us by to show the residents our costumes. They agreed, and not only did my mom take us down to the home, but she picked up some of our friends and took them too. All we did was parade by the residents in the day room, but they were so happy to see us. My mother stopped to say a few kind words to each and every one of them.
I also remember that Thanksgiving, when Mom sat the four of us down to craft Thanksgiving day turkeys by tracing our fingers and then decorating the shapes with crayons and glitter. We made dozens of them. Again, she took us to the nursing home, and we visited the residents and taped the turkeys on their walls where they could see them.
And then it was Christmas. I have to admit that none of us was very thrilled about visiting a nursing home on Christmas Eve. We were only kids, and I guess all that mattered to us was the presents we’d find under the tree. I remember me and my brothers whining “Do we have to?”, “Why do we have to go there and see old people?”, etc. (Narcissistic brats, weren’t we?)
But, as always, Mom won - and we drove off to the nursing home. There was a crowd of people in the dayroom, and one of the nurses played the guitar, and we sang Christmas carols. After singing to the group in the dayroom, Mom took us to some of the individual rooms, to sing to the patients who couldn’t get out of bed, or who seemed to live in their own little world. And Mom always gave them a hug or a kiss on the cheek, even if their eyes weren’t open.
My mother was such a loving person. The gift she so freely gave to others, was herself. She’d lend an ear, she’d lend a shoulder, and she’d give a smile. It’s no wonder she was loved dearly by so many.
I miss her today, more than anything. And I am so thankful that I have these beautiful memories of her. I wish I would have realized how special a woman she was, when I was that little girl singing to old people in a nursing home. I wish I would have understood just how wonderful a gift our company was to those people, instead of wishing the time would pass quickly and I could get home to my friends and presents.
Mostly, I wish that - for one day - I was that little girl again, and I was going caroling with my mom.
I miss you mommy.
I cried after writing that. I was alone here, waiting for Steve to get home from work, and feeling the blues pretty strongly. I know I’m not alone in these feelings. There are many people - like me - who spend Christmas missing those they love, whether those people have left this earth permanently, or live far away.
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