After setting up the Christmas tree this year, I left the decorating to Paula. I planned to swoop in after most of the decorations were put on and hang a dozen or so items just to feel like I contributed to Paula’s work of art.
She has kept every decoration we’ve ever purchased or received, and manages to hang then onto branches already loaded with knickknacks, My hanging favorites are mostly M&M characters, Tasmanian devils, and other male-oriented objects.
This year I came across a ceramic Santa Claus, brightly colored and festive. One leg was glued on, the result, I guess, of having been dropped in the past. I read the inscription on the other side: To Tom, From Bob, Christmas 1998.
I had forgotten about it. This was three years into Bob’s illness, one that would last thirty-five years until he succumbed to Covid. In 1998, Bob was enrolled in occupational therapy to keep his mind sharp and to pass the long days.
So, as Christmas approached, the aides had residents create ceramic ornaments for their families. It didn’t impact me at the time and I filed it away along with other gifts I would soon forget.
Yet, this year, maybe as a reminder of the real spirit of Christmas, I found the ornament again, reread the inscription, and hung it in a place of prominence.
I’m sure Bob forgot about the ornament even hours after he made it, as he had a short-term memory deficit. I forgot about it also, due to not understanding what it represented.
But it hangs this year, and will in the future as a reminder of what has passed, and what we need to remember.
She has kept every decoration we’ve ever purchased or received, and manages to hang then onto branches already loaded with knickknacks, My hanging favorites are mostly M&M characters, Tasmanian devils, and other male-oriented objects.
This year I came across a ceramic Santa Claus, brightly colored and festive. One leg was glued on, the result, I guess, of having been dropped in the past. I read the inscription on the other side: To Tom, From Bob, Christmas 1998.
I had forgotten about it. This was three years into Bob’s illness, one that would last thirty-five years until he succumbed to Covid. In 1998, Bob was enrolled in occupational therapy to keep his mind sharp and to pass the long days.
So, as Christmas approached, the aides had residents create ceramic ornaments for their families. It didn’t impact me at the time and I filed it away along with other gifts I would soon forget.
Yet, this year, maybe as a reminder of the real spirit of Christmas, I found the ornament again, reread the inscription, and hung it in a place of prominence.
I’m sure Bob forgot about the ornament even hours after he made it, as he had a short-term memory deficit. I forgot about it also, due to not understanding what it represented.
But it hangs this year, and will in the future as a reminder of what has passed, and what we need to remember.