Mom and Dad: Merry Christmas
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
By: Ruth Weidemeyer

Mom and Dad both have Alzheimer's. Sometimes, their innocence is so touching.

Mom's birthday is just 5 days before Christmas and I'd been taking notes all year long on what to get her. There are a few things she has on every shopping list, but our trips to the store are few and far between. It is so hard on both of them to be in the big stores and winter weather makes it even more of a challenge. Dad especially is bothered by the cold and really can't seem to find a good reason to be out in it. Mom's birthday presents this year stocked them up on all her favorites for months.
While Mom was opening her presents, Dad kept himself busy talking to that guy (in the mirror), exploring the things on the top of the dresser, chatting with his toys, napping. Each thing Mom opened, she recognized and wanted to show me the one they already had. She compared and verified that they were the same thing, and commented that it was good that I got this because the one she already had was almost empty. "Did you just know we were almost out of these?"
In the days to come, she showed me some of those same items saying, "Your brother brought these for us the last time he visited."
I said, "Oh, that was nice of him."
Mom asked, "Did you tell him we needed these?"
I said, "I may have mentioned it."
On Christmas Day, when I got home from work, I called to wish Mom and Dad a Merry Christmas. I don't know who Mom thought I was, but she kept saying, "I didn't expect you back so soon." and "Did everything go alright?" I was a bit dumbstruck and had little creativity in my responses, making references to the weather and road conditions, and vague comments on how work went.
Then, with a seamless transition, she knew who she was talking to and slipped into our normal routine.
She told me about their Christmas:
Did I tell you about the oh, um, shoes, no, stockings. Stockings. That's right. Did I tell you about the stockings we had hung on our door? They were stockings, not socks like you'd wear. We had them hung on the door on the outside, not inside where we could see them from our room. I guess everyone had some stocking or decorations on their doors. When we went to breakfast this morning, they were gone. I said, 'Bill, look! Our stockings are gone.' He didn't know what I meant. When we got back from breakfast, the stockings were back. I said, 'Bill, look! Our stockings are back!' He wasn't interested. He just wanted to get back in the room. I made him look at the stockings. I don't know where they were, but they were back, but your Dad's was hanging where mine belongs. There was something in them! A present! The stocking that was your Dad's but was hanging in my stocking's place had a singing stuffed animal in it. I think that was meant for your Dad. My stocking that was hanging where your Dad's stocking should have been had a pedometer in it.
When she finished telling me about the stockings, I said, "Well, a pedometer certainly fits you, Mother! Now you can keep track of just how much walking you do around the place! It seems each of you got something that fits you very well."
And, she retold it.
Amazed that the stockings had been gone and then were back.
Filled with wonder like a child on Christmas morning after Santa Clause came to visit.
I suggested that maybe Santa had delivered presents to all the residents. Mom seemed pleased by the thought. She reasoned that Santa would have to deliver to all the children first, then come back around for people like her. That explained why their stockings were missing, then not missing.
And, she retold it...
As we see our children lose that belief, we remember when we, too, figured it out. It's a moment almost all of us can recall. That feeling has stayed with us ever since.
Bittersweet?
We can never recapture that innocence.
And, yet, for Mom...
Yes, Mom, there really is a Santa Clause.