Ah, the Holidays

Mom and me at Pier 1 two years ago

My heart is full. Ah, the holidays. Times of love, laughter, carols, good cheer, good food, and fabulous smells. Times of sorrow and sadness, high expectations, emotions on edge.

Strange to think about last year's Christmas Eve - Mom was alive, but in the hospital - biopsies, MRIs and other tests, oh my. January 2nd it will be a year since Mom's passing. A year filled with sadness, hope, friendship, love, laughter, disappointment. A year without Mom, her humor, her perspective. Hopefully, some of her has rubbed off on me from our moments together.

Mom always made sure everyone felt welcome in her home - no matter the time of the year - but especially at Christmas. If there was an unexpected guest, she would run upstairs, find the perfect gift (she always had extras, just in case) wrap it and bring it down. As if she knew all along you were coming and she just forgot the gift upstairs. No one ever went away hungry (if you did, it was your own fault). She always had plenty of food and leftovers for days.

When I was a kid, we would make edible gingerbread houses, and always always my favorite cookies - cutouts with frosting and sprinkles. As Mom's dementia progressed and her memory took her backward, she would make Grandma's favorite cookies - the peanut butter ones with a chocolate kiss in the middle. And we would sing Christmas carols together. Don't get me wrong - definitely had some challenging holiday times - arguments, tears - but always coming back to love.

My holiday post from 2 years ago, Mom was very confused, knew she wasn't making sense and struggled to make sense of what was in her head. I listened, which was all she really needed. Hell, isn't that what we all need?

Every winter, Mom's symptoms would worsen. We would brace ourselves for it. Now, there is nothing to brace for, except acceptance of her physical being no longer gracing this earth. I am incredible grateful for the many voicemails I've saved, photos and memories. Even the tough memories - arguments, disappointments, progression of her illness. They soften my rough edges.

Without a doubt, her illness has made me a better person. More compassionate, more patient, easier to forgive. And I learned I'm incredibly loyal, much stronger and more resourceful than I ever knew. This year's lesson(s) has been to take care of myself, and love my friends and my tribe with all my heart, no holding back. And seriously screw fears. Life is for living - I have said yes to the things I have wanted to do my whole life, and no to the stuff I am no longer interested in. And I can hear my mom's voice giving me advice along the way.

For those of you in the midst and fog of caring, loving or being someone with dementia, my hope and wish for you is for patience, humor and love.  Take good care of each other - without my sister and good dear friends, I would have lost my mind long ago.

Happy holidays - spend time with the ones you love!