A Time to Remember: Part Three

First Published on November 24, 2017 (Mom Haddock passed in May of 2018)

I dedicate approximately one-third of my blog space to memories because I have almost seven decades of living to share. My husband and I love looking back over our fifty-five years of scrapbooks. Our family and friends, who are also featured in these books, seem to enjoy browsing through the pages too. As important as detailed memories are, I have learned, through caring for family members with dementia, that it isn’t always the details that matter the most. Sometimes, remembering is simply a warm, familiar feeling made up of years of accumulated moments.

My mother-in-law has become a significant part of my life; I met her fifty-five years ago. I have absorbed her stories; they are part of me. She has lived with Alzheimer’s for more than a decade, and she listens enthusiastically, when I tell her about her life. In the early stages of Alzheimer’s, she would ask me for details about a specific event. Now, she marvels at the woman she used to be. If I tell her how beautifully she used to set a table, she seems pleased to know she took the time. More than anyone, she loves to sit down quietly, with a pile of our scrapbooks.

As my mother-in-law’s ability to remember details has declined, she has gained another perception. She soaks up new experiences and remembers old ones on a more subliminal level. Her room is full of photos. She often giggles at a photo taken during her courtship with her late husband; they were obviously in love. One day, she asked me if that man was her boyfriend. I told her she married that good-looking fellow back in 1941. She used to describe him in great detail, but more recently, she smiles and remarks that he was always kind and considerate. At these times, I can see in her expression that she remembers his essence. I knew him, and he was exactly as she remembers. She hasn’t forgotten him. She has simply found a new way to remember him. He is a feeling

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This year, while putting up my Christmas decorations, I took particular notice of my familiar Christmas feeling. I call it the Christmas tickle. It originates somewhere in my belly and bubbles right up to my smile. I don’t remember exactly when it started, but I know it began when I was a child. I know it is a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and hope, seasoned with memories, and triggered by lights, special foods, seasonal music, and gift-giving. The details of all those Christmases have faded, somewhat, but the Christmas feeling has grown stronger than ever. I think it’s as close as I can come to understanding the way my mother-in-law now remembers. The Christmas feeling comes with no expectations or details. It’s just an essence.

Not everyone has great Christmas memories, and dealing with my mother-in-law’s Alzheimer’s hasn’t always been easy. She resisted help at every stage. Convincing her to move into an assisted living place, and helping her pick a walker, provided me with difficult memories. She became quite negative for a time. However, we kept visiting, taking her out, and telling her about her life. She remains proud, and private, as she approaches her 98^th birthday. She seems, at last, rather content. She is free to live in the moment.

I am encouraged by the knowledge that for my mother-in-law, it was the bad memories that faded first. The good memories, it seems, have taken on a warm fuzzy essence. This is an unexpected gift, at any time of year, but at Christmas, it seems particularly encouraging.

To read more about my mother-in-law please click on I Miss My Mother-In-Law and A Christmas Tradition in Saskatchewan.

To read Part One and Part Two of A Time to Remember click on the highlighted parts.

Here’s to the Christmas tickle and to savouring the feeling.