The Gift
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
By: Michael Murphy

A precious Christmas moment in time . . .

I have many fond memories of Christmases past but thought I would share a brief observation from many years ago.
My mom was diagnosed with AD back in 1997 and we finally had to move her to an assisted living facility in the summer of '99.
At the time she was declining rapidly in terms of vocabulary and recognition of people, places and things. She no longer knew my name, the current year, day or time and was occasionally prone to a bit of gibberish.
On Christmas Eve of '99, I drove to pick her up to bring her back to our house to have something to eat and maybe open a few presents (another thing that puzzled her at the time).
I remember feeling a bit melancholy as I watched her open presents that held very little for her in terms of sentimentality or connection.
She would smile and say, 'Oh! Thank you so much!' as she tossed aside said present like a dirty dish towel. I took no offense because I knew the disease really had her; unknowingly it had me as well.
My wife and my three daughters made light of the strange holiday vibe that seeped into our house that afternoon. We instead made my mother feel the warmth, love and compassion of the season whether she reciprocated or not.
As I drove her back that night to her new home I turned on the radio thinking some Christmas music might be nice.
She had played piano her entire life and found much solace in melody.
The radio filled the car with carols, hymns and old Holiday favorites.
To my utter amazement she sang out loud to almost every song; never missing a lyric.
I smiled and wiped a few tears from my eyes as I drove knowing that it was my mother was actually sitting in the backseat; the mom that knew my name, the mom that once knew me.
It was an unexpected Christmas gift that I will cherish until the day I die.
Sometimes your eyes (and ears) just have to be open.
A Merry Christmas to all.