So, here we are, just eight days from Christmas (where does the time go?!) and I am overwhelmed with thoughts of Christmases past.  Growing up, Christmas was a very big deal in our house.  We always had a HUGE tree.  First they were real and heavily flocked.  Remember that?! That white fake snow that  covered the beautiful green tree and everything else it came in contact with…  Then we had real trees that were green and finally, one year, my Mother announced that she was buying a very “nice” fake tree and that was what we used for years.  It was nice, but I always missed the scent associated with a real tree.  Along with a big tree, my Mother would decorate the entire house.  Live boughs with fancy ornaments down the banister and over the fireplace.  Christmas lights perfectly hung outside (they all had to be perfectly straight), poinsettias in every corner and trays and trays of goodies.  When I was young, Mother would spend days baking: fudge, pecan balls, cookies, caramel corn and more.  As the years went by, she went from baking the goodies, to buying them.  Harry & David was her favorite.  Now, every Christmas I crave  Harry & David’s Moose Munch, an addictive combination of sweet/buttery popcorn dipped in dark chocolate, and Chocolate Covered Cherries .   Food? Oh, did we have food! My Mother would put out quite a spread.  We had a Honey Baked ham, prime rib, whole smoked salmon, smoked oysters and a brisket.  We also had guacamole, spinach dip and chili con queso.  Plus a cheese platter that could choke a horse, tons of bread and my Aunt Betty’s fruit salad.  Of course, we had bottles of champagne, at least four different wines and a special Port.  We would celebrate Christmas Eve.  That is when we would eat dinner, open our gifts and take all the photos.  On Christmas morning we would wake up to bulging stockings and mimosas.  Such fond memories… Then, well then, my Mother developed Alzheimer’s and everything changed.

It was on a Christmas Eve that I realized there was something “really” wrong with Mother.  I was visiting my parents in Arizona and wanted to recreate, as closely as possible, the Christmas holidays from my past.  So I invited all my sisters (it had been a while since we were all together on a holiday) and got to work.  I baked like a mad woman, I decorated up a storm, even braving snow and 18 degree temps to get lights on the exterior of the house.  I cooked a prime rib, ordered a Honey Baked ham and even made my Mother’s favorite dips.  Sounds great, right?  It wasn’t.  My Mother had been hiding that she was “slipping”.  I don’t blame her, she was terrified, her Mom, my Grandmother, had Alzheimer’s and we watched her descend into a very scary madness.  So, having me there, asking for recipes, asking if she remembered where the ornaments were kept, asking her to read directions to heat the ham, well that put pressure on her and forced her card, so to speak.  A card she wasn’t ready to reveal.  So she became nasty and yelled at all of us.  She spent most of that Christmas Eve in her bedroom while the rest of the family came to grips with the fact that Mother was sick.

I stayed through the tests that followed.  I stayed through my Mother quitting a job she loved because she could no longer perform.  I stayed through her getting mean and lashing out.  I stayed as she became like a little girl whom would clap when I would come over.  I stayed and helped her do all the things that we take for granted like getting dressed, brushing our teeth and feeding ourselves. And I stayed through Christmases where I became the decorator, cook, shopper, etc.

I believe I had six total Christmases with my Mother after the one during which she flipped out.  I took over all the decorating, cooking, etc.  Those holidays were different from the ones we used to have, but we were together and Mother always enjoyed them.  That was until the last Christmas I had with her.  It was just myself, my Father and my Mother.  I made all her favorite foods of the moment.  Her tastes changed rapidly with Alzheimer’s so on this particular Christmas I made cheese enchiladas, lasagna and cheesy garlic bread.  She still liked champagne and wine, though we had to be careful, because too much and she became unruly.  That year the Bing Cherries looked gorgeous, so I bought a bunch of them and had them out on the table.  She ate the entire bowl!  Good she did, because she really didn’t eat much else.  She was confused by the idea of Christmas and didn’t understand it at all.  She didn’t want her presents.  We tried to open a couple with her, but she wanted none of it.  She wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home.  I packed huge shopping bags with food and gifts and sent them home after just a couple of hours.  I felt very sad and defeated.

I saw my Mother the day after Christmas, my sister was visiting my parents and I stopped by the house.  She still hadn’t opened her gifts.  She walked up to me , smiled and pointed to her shoe.  Her shoe lace was untied.  I knelt  down and tied it for her.  She patted my head and said, “You are such a good girl.”  I hugged and kissed her and went home.  My Mother died just a week later.

The point of this blog is not to make people sad.  It is to remind them, and myself, to cherish every moment with the ones we love.  Family holidays are far from perfect, but sadly, we don’t know what we have until it is gone.  So when your Mother is driving you crazy this Christmas, cherish that moment.  When your Dad asks you for the hundredth time, “Where do you keep the coffee?”  Cherish it.   Cherish all the craziness, the annoyances and the idiosyncrasies that make your family, well your family.  Because it is all of that, not the decorations, the gifts, etc, that our memories of Christmas are all about.  And memories are the best gift we get.