Well, here we are. Two days before Christmas. Like millions of other Americans, I have baking to do and presents to wrap. Yeah, I know, wrapping presents on Christmas Eve? What can I say, I work well under pressure. This year, we are celebrating on Christmas on the night of the 24th because my husband has to work on the actual holiday. Ah, the joys of working in healthcare. I did it myself for many years. My husband and I don't have kids, so we are down to us and my younger brother. Families do indeed come in many different forms. In our case, however, Christmas is also an anniversary.
Four years ago on Thursday, my mom passed away. Sadly, I know that there are others out there who, in the midst of the biggest holiday of the year, are also remembering that on this day they lost a loved one. Long story short, my mom had been in the hospital for about ten days. In hindsight, we think her death may have been caused by something misdiagnosed or undiagnosed. Eventually, she was put on a ventilator, and on Christmas Day 2021, we turned off that ventilator. As we sat in her room, one of the first things we thought of was that we wouldn't let Christmas become a crappy day, and I think we have fulfilled that promise to her.
READ MORE: Caregiver's Diary Part 62: Ups and Downs Ahead of Christmas
Maybe like a lot of other moms, mine was in charge of Christmas at our house. I am now well aware that the decorating gene completely bypassed me. But much of that was because when she met my dad, he hadn't grown up with a lot of Christmas. He was the oldest of six kids living in a three-room house with no running water until he was 15, not much to go around in that situation. She saw to it that he got all the Christmas he had missed as a kid. When I, then my brother, came along, it became much easier for him to have fun with it. It was likely where the tradition of my dad making us wait in the family room while he went into the living room "to make sure Santa was gone" was born.
As is usual with teenage girls and moms, we didn't always get along and see eye-to-eye. When I was in junior high, she told me I shouldn't be calling boys. I probably looked her in the eye as I dialed. There were fights over all the other typical things as well. Clothes, staying out late, and the aforementioned boys, who, if she didn't like one of them, I knew about it right away. But kids grow up and move away from home, and I made sure to come home for dinner, most times with a basket of laundry, whenever I could.
I guess all adult children, when they lose a parent, wonder if they "did enough" for that parent while they were alive. I certainly do. We get caught up in our own lives, and it is almost a knee-jerk reaction to think, "I need to call mom, but I'm busy. I'll do it tomorrow." I'll always wonder if I was available enough to take her to doctor appointments, go to the grocery store for her, or just hang out. I know I shouldn't do that because I'll make myself crazy, but it is hard to shake.
Because my mom was who she was, one of the things she did before she died was to make a notebook, actually a three-ring binder, of all of our favorite recipes of hers. My brother and I have dubbed it "The Book." My mom was an amazing cook. It's the reason I am a Weight Watchers girl today. Just thumbing through it brings back memories of watching her make all of those delicious goodies. I can almost taste them.
So, on Christmas Eve, my husband, brother, and I will get together for a Christmas dinner straight out of "The Book." We are not exchanging presents. We decided among the three of us that splurging on some good seats at a St. Louis Blues game would be our present. We're hoping they can resolve that blowing the lead in the third period problem before the game we choose to go to, but I digress.
Instead of being sad, we will celebrate her. I think she would be glad that she is still feeding us, because isn't that really what moms want to do anyway?
