A Measure of the Progression

I had a dramatic example this week of just how different things are now with my mother's memory loss.  She was not Martha Stewart when we were young, but close when it came to Christmas.  All through the year she would shop to find just the right present for everyone.  It might not cost a lot of money, but it was perfect for that person.  She taught us that it really is the thought that counts. Giving money was forbidden.  That showed a lack of personal involvement and care for the person.   Presents were wrapped with coordinating paper and bows and every year there was an ornament on one package that went with the theme and was collectable.  One of my favorite traditions from when I was a child was the purchase or creation of one ornament every year for each one of the kids that symbolized something for that year.  One year, it was a piano.  The year my oldest turned 16, he got a matchbox car ornament.  Then when each of the 3 of us, and now my own children, leave home, we took our special ornaments with us to start our own homes.

So I was quite surprised with the package I received in the mail this week.  I knew they were working on our Christmas package because Mom told me so in our weekly phone call last Sunday.  I'm pretty sure our package to them arrived a day or two before which is what spurred them on.  Forgetting special events was one of the signs when I knew something was wrong with Mom (she forgot the birthday of one of her 2 grandchildren, yet remembered my husband's birthday 2 days before).  This year, I called on my youngest brother's birthday to give a gentle reminder.  I think Dad just has too much on his plate and he had forgotten.  So I wasn't surprised about the kind of last minute aspect of the gifts (which was also unusual).  Then I opened the package.  My parents have always been bad about using boxes that are really not big enough and just covering them in so much tape, they make it through.  But when I opened the outer box, I found a box of Hickory Farm candy that came ready wrapped with a bow.  Then there was the box with a electric coffee mug for your car.  It was not wrapped and had a gift tag slapped on it.  Now lest you think I am disappointed by the gift, I honestly could care less about getting any kind of present.  It was just an example of how different things are now.

When I got dressed for work yesterday morning I put on a top that I realized was the last personalized gift I will ever get from my mother.  I can't remember if it was last year or the year before.  Then last night I talked to my middle brother.  Guess what he got for Christmas?  He got a box of Hickory Farms and a car plug in coffee mug.  Again, I don't care about the present itself.  But it says to me that Dad really has too much to do.  And I don't think he realizes it's not going to be short term and its not going to get better.  No wonder people get depressed at the holidays.