An Emotional Christmas
Yesterday was Christmas. We did the usual and that was to go to my mother-in-law's house in Orange County. My wife and I had prepared most of the dinner on Saturday. Nora had made scalloped potatoes and a sweet potato dish. I made the green bean casserole, a bourbon pie, and a pecan pie. All that remained for Christmas Day was baking the ham, which we started in Orange County at 10:00 a.m. We ate around 2:30, opened presents, then had the pies. We all went our ways about 6:00.
What made this Christmas notable was what we did outside of the "official" celebration. On Christmas Eve, Nora and I picked up some of our dear friends from the Light and Power Class at Church and took then to our church's Christmas Eve Service. From there we took them home for dinner. These were adults with developmental disabilities who did not have families.
On Christmas morning after I got the ham in the oven, we (Nora, daughter Ashley, son Darren, sister- and brother-in-law Jan and Miles, and I) went to see Ken, my father-in-law at the Alzheimer's secure facility he is now living in. His wife, Faith, was already there waiting for us. Ken was confused about being there and asked repeatedly why he couldn't go home with his wife. However, when he wasn't expressing fear or confusion, he was talking about how much he loved us, speaking to us individually. Even though he could not remember our names, he know who we were. It did not seem to be in terms of how he was connected (with the exception of his wife) with each one of us; he just knew we were beloved loved ones. He was relating to each of us heart to heart without any social or familial interpretation.
His wife had brought his harmonica and guitar, which he played beautifully. We sang several old hymns and Christmas Carols. He cried and wept off and on throughout the visit, saying "Jesus" many times. He used the name not in swearing, but in expressing thanksgiving and when he was getting upset and fearful. He was very aware that Jesus was his source of blessing and deliverance.
He wanted us to see his room, so we all walked back with him. I walked with him holding his arm. At his room, we set up his new radio and CD player. I set the radio to a classical music station. As it was his lunch time, it was time for us to leave. This was not as easy as it sounds. We all walked toward the front door and stopped to say our good byes. He cried and held Faith, then Nora and Jan. He needed to get to lunch, so I tried to escort him back to the cafeteria. At first he resisted, then he went with me. He kept asking me why he couldn't go home. I finally told him that Faith didn't want to lose him because he was always wandering off by himself. He said that was in the past. He also repeatedly begged me to come and visit him. Just before I left, he looked imploringly and said, "All I want to do is see my wife every day. Why can't I see my wife's face every day? I've always seen my wife everyday!" This last statement struck home to me. I have seen my beloved wife's face almost every day for the last twenty three years. I don't know how I would do if I couldn't see my wife every day. Then attendants took him from me to go eat.
Walking back to the parking lot, I realized that again, God had blindsided me and I realized that I was responsible now. My relationship with Ken has never been more than superficial as we did not share many interests other that singing old hymns occasionally when we were together. This visit was very different. This man was no longer my father-in-law who in the past I felt had dismissed me, but was an individual God put in my path to relate to, love, comfort, and learn from. Things will never be the same.
What made this Christmas notable was what we did outside of the "official" celebration. On Christmas Eve, Nora and I picked up some of our dear friends from the Light and Power Class at Church and took then to our church's Christmas Eve Service. From there we took them home for dinner. These were adults with developmental disabilities who did not have families.
On Christmas morning after I got the ham in the oven, we (Nora, daughter Ashley, son Darren, sister- and brother-in-law Jan and Miles, and I) went to see Ken, my father-in-law at the Alzheimer's secure facility he is now living in. His wife, Faith, was already there waiting for us. Ken was confused about being there and asked repeatedly why he couldn't go home with his wife. However, when he wasn't expressing fear or confusion, he was talking about how much he loved us, speaking to us individually. Even though he could not remember our names, he know who we were. It did not seem to be in terms of how he was connected (with the exception of his wife) with each one of us; he just knew we were beloved loved ones. He was relating to each of us heart to heart without any social or familial interpretation.
His wife had brought his harmonica and guitar, which he played beautifully. We sang several old hymns and Christmas Carols. He cried and wept off and on throughout the visit, saying "Jesus" many times. He used the name not in swearing, but in expressing thanksgiving and when he was getting upset and fearful. He was very aware that Jesus was his source of blessing and deliverance.
He wanted us to see his room, so we all walked back with him. I walked with him holding his arm. At his room, we set up his new radio and CD player. I set the radio to a classical music station. As it was his lunch time, it was time for us to leave. This was not as easy as it sounds. We all walked toward the front door and stopped to say our good byes. He cried and held Faith, then Nora and Jan. He needed to get to lunch, so I tried to escort him back to the cafeteria. At first he resisted, then he went with me. He kept asking me why he couldn't go home. I finally told him that Faith didn't want to lose him because he was always wandering off by himself. He said that was in the past. He also repeatedly begged me to come and visit him. Just before I left, he looked imploringly and said, "All I want to do is see my wife every day. Why can't I see my wife's face every day? I've always seen my wife everyday!" This last statement struck home to me. I have seen my beloved wife's face almost every day for the last twenty three years. I don't know how I would do if I couldn't see my wife every day. Then attendants took him from me to go eat.
Walking back to the parking lot, I realized that again, God had blindsided me and I realized that I was responsible now. My relationship with Ken has never been more than superficial as we did not share many interests other that singing old hymns occasionally when we were together. This visit was very different. This man was no longer my father-in-law who in the past I felt had dismissed me, but was an individual God put in my path to relate to, love, comfort, and learn from. Things will never be the same.
Labels: Disability
posted by Arthur Seale at 6:19 PM
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