I had hoped to write a post on Christmas Eve, if for no other reason than to record some of that day’s magic before it was gone like most other details of my memory banks. It’s already late December 26th, but the magic has lasted all three days.
This is the first Christmas season that I felt I had to work through. I put in a lot of thinking and writing and talking and listening time this month. It felt the closest to grieving I’ve come yet. And it was beautiful, I knew it was…even in the midst of it. I’m a 44 year old woman, I’ve had plenty of Christmases away from my family traditions, let alone my family. But in the heart of it, I may always long for the Christmases of childhood, when it never seemed like anyone was missing…ever.
I remember one Christmas, maybe 15 years ago, before everyone was married off with their extended family and children of their own, and we were all so sad that he couldn’t make it home from Hawaii, where he was stationed. We’d already begun unwrapping our gifts that morning when the doorbell rang and he walked in, carrying all the unopened packages we’d each sent him by mail. Eventually we moved on to the grownup and married versions of ourselves and got used to the fact it was always going to be a little different, that Christmas was about flexibility and trying to get as many beloveds together as possible, wherever one might spend the holidays that year. You never miss family members as much as you do during the holidays, which makes it especially hard for those who have lost or been separated from loved ones—at any time of year. Last year, my brother (along with his wife) saved the day again, by bringing their family down to celebrate Christmas at my parent’s house and later in the day, with Vernon, presents and all.
It was going to be a lot quieter this year, with just the two kids, my parents and myself. As my place has been decorated since December 1st, it seemed appropriate that the giving festivities should be at ours this year. I’d never hosted it before in my life, and I realized we didn’t have to be tied to anything we’d experienced before if we didn’t want to. We’d do breakfast: my favorite meal to share and the easiest for a non-chef to do. What freedom! What a chance to make new traditions (if we decide to return to them in the future.) Who are these kids this year… who is Vernon…me…my mom and dad? Lets make it work for all of us in our ever-changing lives.
Justine was absolutely delightful this year at Christmas. I overheard her say “I can’t wait till Christmas…I’ve been waiting for it since I was just a little kid.” Oh, the anticipation was delectable! If draping the house with ribbons and sparkly bits and wrapping every loose thing she could get her hands on (tape, hairbrushes, old toys, misplaced jewelry) then placing it under the tree wasn’t enough, she helped me by decorating the table with china with her favorite Christmas foods, candy canes and mini-marshmallows. I thought it looked amazing.
The kids cleaned up well for the Christmas Eve church service, Maki raiding the boxes in the garage for one of his dad’s nice shirts and an overcoat. I thought he looked very Whovian, wearing his dad’s collared shirt and overcoat. And we managed to get two sort-of french braids in Justine’s hair for the first time ever. I took so much joy in having them near me.
The service was beautiful. My dad spoke on incredibly mystical and meaningful things about the birth of Christ while he painted a nativity scene for a captive audience. The traditional carols were so moving, I cried. Then the candlelights came out. It felt so good to be a part of something bigger, maybe especially since our immediate family feels extra-small this year. Small only in quantity, not quality.
Afterwords, we added hot chocolate to Justine’s buffet and watched the movie, Elf. A movie we all can watch and enjoy at once is a rare thing at their ages. We loved every minute.
Our numbers may be small, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying four different Christmases through the day. Gift giving was a blast, I don’t know how we ended with so much. The kids were pleased with their bounty, and maybe for the first time for either of them, made the effort to gifts as well as receive them. I think we all were feeling incredibly grateful. To top things off, Maki got his first pet since coming to live with us: a fish that he seems quite enamored by. His name is Pablo.
We went to see Vernon, who was in good spirits. My mom had made a picnic which included a egg salad, guacamole, rice pudding, and cheese spread—all soft enough for Vernon to partake. He seemed up for the festivities for about twenty minutes, in which he opened presents. He even opened the boxes sent from his family in England while on Skype with them. This was the first time since the accident that we have been able to Skype, due to the time zone and the constraints of wifi and of course, his disability. We had tried the day before with Vanessa and her family, but he hadn’t been up for it, so I was so pleased it worked out when his parents were on the other end as well. Here is a taster:
Vernon was wonderful, even though he was overwhelmed very quickly and needed to return to bed. We always look forward to being with him, but we never know what we are going to get, so to have him so open to the experience yesterday was heartening for us all. His Christmas gift to us, I suppose.
After that, we stopped by our friends the Ketchams. Though we were invited to stay for dinner, we had just come to be in their company on our favorite day. Andrea’s mom, Louise, you may remember, is recovering from a stroke in August. She was there too, which is always so interesting to see how this family is handling the changes. They are doing a great job. I think Justine’s being there may have made her day. Luiga is a big fan. We love her (and her family) too. (The first of these photos was taken by Justine…can you tell?)
I left my camera in the car for the next leg of our day, but we ended up having a wonderful time with my friend Sandy, whose 15 year old grandson Shane was visiting from Washington. Maki had met him before so we knew they would enjoy each other’s company, playing their fantasy card game and talking Star Wars. Also in the mix was Shane’s mother who he had come to visit especially. She has early onset Alzheimer’s and with each visit, he sees less of the mother he remembers. Life is so hard. But its joyous to, especially when we can be together.
Somehow this was the year I feel like I graduated into a new understanding. My real family is huge, ever growing. If we had everything we had before, we wouldn’t get to experience the freedom of sharing the holiday with an even greater family…yes, those on the edges, all dealing with elements of profound loss. This is touching the heart of humanity.These are my people, and I am blessed to get to share both in their joy and suffering. We want life to be perfect, but maybe its better when its not…just look at the treasures you find!
A few weeks ago, I asked Vernon what he missed most about England. He answered without a beat: “The bad weather.”
I laughed as I recounted this to Maki, but he said: “I know what he means.”
Actually I do too. Maybe not as deep in the core as they do, living most of their lives in cold climates, but I too long for cold and rain this time of year. It hasn’t been cold around Christmas here since we moved here in 2012. I have a spotty memory of the winter weather growing up. But this month has actually brought sweater weather for the holidays, which makes me very happy indeed. It’s one step closer to matching the holiday songs we hear all day long.
Last night, it rained. All night. And it hasn’t stopped 24 hours later. It actually rained all day too, I couldn’t believe it. Even the weather app on my phone didn’t register the precipitation. Bad Weather—at long last! And it couldn’t have been more on schedule. Even the horrible rain/holiday/SoCal traffic didn’t dampen my spirits on the way to dialysis this morning. I wanted to tell Vernon all about it. We could talk about Christmas in England and memories of grey skies.
But he was in a bad way, alert but angry and dark, inconsolable. Again, I tell myself this is par for the course, that this is just another day in the relatively good period he’s been in. But I couldn’t calm him down the whole session. He wasn’t jumpy-agitated, like he might fall from his chair, but he seemed frustrated with me for not taking him away from there. He spoke a lot but he sounded confused and hyper-alert…always looking for a way out, not recognizing people, or rather, over-recognizing strangers and making up stories about his connection to them and how they had either worked with him or might be his ride out of there. He kept trying to get their attention, annoyed with me for trying to distract him.
This is when it is good to have two lives. These are the days I am happy to have my leave of him. I called the ambulance and told them to come a little early, rewarded by the grateful gazes of the technical staff. I was happy to get on the rain-sprayed freeway and back to the busy-ness of Christmas preparations and the general turning-in of society.
And yet these are the days I miss him the most. This fantastic weather and holiday nostalgia brings me back to the years we lived in England together. Decorating our little home year after year, mince pies, mulled wine at the outdoor Christmas market by Winchester Cathedral, Vernon’s family in Bournemouth, the Christmas lunch, the fire, cards strung across the sitting room, each with a story of an old friend, cups of tea made especially by Vernon’s dad, who took his tea-making seriously (and it’s true: they were the best in town), Christmas crackers and the big TV show that the rest of the country was also watching, tucked away in the warmth of home from the dark outdoors, which we might take an evening walk in. I’ve been thinking about those Christmas memories because they are mostly the ones I have of us together.
Here is Vernon’s longtime favorite Christmas song. I remember it would come up on his playlist turn as we drove through Hampshire on the way to his parent’s house in Bournemouth. We always agreed that the tree lined roads reminded us both of the ’70s, when we were free to look up at the sky and passing canopies, seatbelt-free, in the back of his parent’s estate and my parents’ station wagon. Even as a child, he chose to love this song with his anti-commercialism message. It helps me imagine what he was like when he was young: ever thoughtful, not unlike he was as an adult.
If you are interested in a bit more UK Christmas nostalgia, here is my top pick each year. I never hear these playing here in the States, so it has been fun YouTubing down memory lane.
Regardless of how things have changed, who we’ve lost and what we’ve gained, at the heart of all this, its a special time of year. The memories are a warm pleasure on a cold night. It feels good to find them in the middle of it all.
I wish each of YOU a Merry Christmas—Past, Present, and Future. Stay warm!
Did you know it was the amazing Chris and Susan Logie’s 34th anniversary this weekend? Instead of going away as planned, they spent the early Saturday morning hours at the midnight show of Star Wars with their kids, all keen Star Wars fans. The force is strong with this family.
I didn’t take these, but I couldn’t NOT share. (Maki and I saw the film last weekend too, but we didn’t even dress up. So lame, I know.)
So they were a little tired from the midnight show and festivities and they didn’t get away for their anniversary. But instead of making up for it on Sunday, they showed up at Mesa Verde, ready to entertain Vernon as they so often do. This family is incredible. Remember, they live even further away from the care home than I do—and in a totally different direction. But they have been coming out most weekends to sing to Vernon and keep my family company. They often take dialysis shifts during the week as well, and everyone knows how much THAT means to me, practically speaking.
I know I mention them a lot on this blog, but I just get so moved whenever I think of all they have done for us. We only met them in the summertime and yet, the way they (yes, even the kids!) have committed to our family continues to blow my mind. They have included us in their generous, creative family so graciously that we can hardly remember not knowing them.
Here are Hudson and Maki both wearing the t-shirts Susan bought them.
Sometimes when Chris is singing, Isabelle and Hudson break out a game of something and stay busy at another table. One of their favorites is Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. Yesterday, they took it over to the table Lee was sitting at. Now Lee is one of the younger patients at Mesa (I’m guessing my age?) but he doesn’t have a lot of friends to hang with there. He wakes up in the afternoon and sits outside with his cigarettes and whatever else until its time for bed again. His is a very limited life. The kids didn’t let the overflowing ashtray stop them from setting up the game around Lee. He was a star wars fan too, he told me, but they were smarter. He also seemed slightly disappointed when his mom came to visit and the game had to break up.
I must say I’m impressed with kids who aren’t afraid to make friends with the disabled people on the fringes. I wish I had been more like that when I was younger, and I hope that mine are inspired to do the same as they get older.
But back to the music. This is what I’ve got. Hope it makes you feel like you were there, just a little bit…because it was a place worth being.
And without further ado: Silver Bells. Merry Christmas WEEK, everyone! I hope you enjoy every minute.
“Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.” Albert Schweitzer
I took notes during my visit with Vernon this morning at the dialysis center. He was bright and present, and I knew if I didn’t write things down, I’d forget. (I’ve already forgotten the things I didn’t.) Fellow writers: here’s the lesson: always bring a notebook!
It started with his asking for water after I’d given him his calming drops. He always asks for chocolate and/or water after the horrible-to-him tasting medication. I suppose the fact that this has become a routine to him is a good thing: its happened so many times over the months that he’s created significant memory paths around it. Some may say its not so good as his asking for water can be problematic. I’ve been advised to only give him ice chips at the care home because of his coughing, but at dialysis, they mostly just want to make sure he stays happy…it makes everyone’s job so much easier. So when the nurse today heard him asking for water, she went off to find a cup. She asked if I’d prefer a big one today to the little dixie cups I have to refill every two seconds.
Once he got it, he said the size of cup was much better…”Because it’s bigger—it makes it easier to drink and lasts longer. And I can drink more over smaller amounts.”
When I commented on his coughing, he found an excuse, as usual: “It’s Stopping drinking that makes me cough. And that’s a fact!” (It must be so confusing to not be able to swallow properly, when it was always the most natural thing in his whole life before. Who remembers learning to swallow? No wonder he always blames something else.)
When he noticed my jotting these notes down, he said: “I love you. I want you to write that down. That’s the most important thing. Go ask Renee (he remembered the nurse’s name, which he’d asked for earlier) she knows it too!”
Renee had not only brought him a cup to drink from, but a chocolate bar she’d found. “I love Vernon,” she shrugged as she left it. He did tell her that she looked like a model earlier, despite her paper face mask—its no wonder she loves him! But then, for anyone who spends real time with him— to know him is to love him…even in his less-than-perfect state.
When Vernon saw the candy bar, he said: “I think I don’t like that kind of chocolate. Do I?”
“I don’t know, Vernon…I usually get you something nicer that will melt in your mouth, but do you want to try it?”
After he tried it: “I think I actually like it better!” (I never thought I’d hear those words from British Vernon’s mouth. But then we must remember he has a severe brain injury.)
He kept asking for water, of course. “You have to wait between cups, Vernon.”
“Can’t I wait later?”
He still struggles with my name.
We’ve been working on my name…nothing new there, but now I don’t allow him to call me anything but.
“Vanessa?”
“No. Try again.”
“Annabelle? No. Where did that come from? It’s terrible that I can never remember your name because you never forget mine.”
“It’s okay, Vernon.”
“Allison.”
“Yes.”
“I have a new way of remembering: A is the same letter of your surname, Adams.” (I was amazed that he remembered that Adams is my surname, but then that happened post-accident, so maybe its stronger as a new memory.)
This is where my notes get fuzzy, so bear with me here. I asked him what it was like without his full memory. Did he think he was getting better? Did he remember being worse? I often ask these sorts of questions in moments of seeming clarity because I’m so curious what it’s like inside his head and I’m always hoping for a portal in. I don’t remember what he said before this, but I grabbed my pen and notebook when I heard him say, “My brain was captured.”
On asking him to further explain, he said; “It was captured—rather than malfunctioning. It was functioning in its own way.”
“Were things blurry?”
“Yes! I and couldn’t help it that other people thought it was bad. That frustrated me that they thought so. Then I started answering back and remembering your name. I think the water helped that.”
I laughed. Water again.
“Seriously, I do!” He insisted.
“The water helped me steadify things, but it also killed me off as well. I could not drink it the way I wanted to. So it was good and bad.”
“What do you think about getting better?”
“Getting better is moving to a good place and moving away from a bad place.”
And then he said…”Its also because you have changed. You are better about giving me water.” (Go figure!)
“It wasn’t really, really hard,” he continued. “But at the time it felt hard.”
Oh my, Vernon is still such a fascinating man. He was such a great mind before the accident. He always made people think differently than maybe they wanted to. It could be infuriating, but I admired him for it. Strangely, I STILL admire him in a similar way. He still has a way of seeing and saying things, doesn’t he? He is still very Vernon…just without the irony or the memory. There is also no real darkness to his comments: he seems to function in either odd confusion or pure light.
At some point I mentioned being tired and wishing I had a coffee. At that point, he stopped talking about water and turned to ice cream shakes or frappuccinos, which I’ve brought him before. Because one of the technician’s ears pricked at the word “Starbucks,” and because Vernon had been on such good behavior today, I was allowed to leave to get us all coffees. I brought one for the technician too, don’t worry!
(Just because Vernon’s not the only one who gets names wrong from time to time…)
I got back in time to read him a little more about Narnia and we spoke of other things as well. This one is getting long, so I’ll leave that conversation for another, but I was encouraged and lifted by his moments of memory. Shall we assume that more is coming? I can’t do that. But I sure enjoyed connecting with him today.
Glad I brought my notebook.
PS When I brought him his drink, he asked me to show him pictures from my trip. “What trip?”
“When you went away to get coffee?”
He knows me well. I always have pictures (at least I used to.) This is what I showed him:
Not all who wander are lost? Vernon doesn’t seem to think he’s been lost. Perhaps he’s just been wandering. Hope its a good place.
The kids and I were invited to attend the Art Supply’s annual holiday party. We spend so much time browsing the shop that I suppose we may as well be a part of the staff, but since we aren’t, it was so nice to be included.
As I’ve mentioned here before, Pattie and Richard are like family to me. I worked at their shop for a couple of years before I met Vernon and moved away. Richard still chuckles as he remembers my saying:” This is the longest job I’ve ever had!” Sad, but true. I recall the first time I went to one of the staff dinner parties in the Herdell’s home. I saw their magical back yard and promptly asked if I could get married there one day. I didn’t even have a boyfriend at the time. A few years later, I was getting married in their back yard.
But Pattie has done more for us than including us in the holiday festivities and hosting a wedding in her backyard. She’s allowed us to use their space for our fundraiser, which is generous enough. On top of that, she has been footing the bill for all the art supplies we buy at the shop. No wonder we are there all the time, right? No wonder I’m always making stuff, right? I understand that most people in my position would do well to stay creative, but without access to supplies, that can feel like a luxury. I don’t look at at-making as a luxury, but a necessity…and the longer we are on this recovery-path, the stronger I feel about it. Pattie has made it so that we can get all the tools we need, without feeling guilty or having to re-prioritize our spending. (I say WE because I’m taking the kids down this path with me too.)
It’s a big deal. This is soul-saving stuff. Not just for me..but the kids. I’m grateful…to have people like this in my life! I’m grateful that we have the freedom to make art. These are the things I love about my life. I am truly, truly blessed.
I realized tonight, as I walked around the Herdell’s home, how many pictures I have around their house. Little gifts I’ve given Pattie over the years: paintings of teapots, shoes, birds….mostly birds. Tonight, I gave her another that hopefully shares a little of my current heart.
If you can’t see, this is what it says:
“I am grateful for what I am and what I have. My thanksgiving is perpetual.” Henry David Thoreau
A special cover of Vernon's fav song 'Waterloo Sunset' by friend and singer/song-writer Ian McGlynn. All proceeds support Vernon's recovery! Donate what you can and download a beautiful song in return.
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