Another
Christmas. I put up a tree while I was alone in the house and didn’t cry.
The
nursing home halls were ornately decorated for the holidays. “Jim stopped his
merry walker in front of Santa,” the charge nurse said pointing at a wall
hanging of the jolly old elf. “Then, he stopped and said, ‘Hello, Santa.’ ” She
held up her hand as if to swear it was the truth.
“Wish
I’d seen that!” I said. Jim spoke so rarely.
Along
with the Christmas decorations, was a flag made with cutouts of children’s
hands. It had been hanging on the wall since a few weeks after the September 11
tragedy.
A
few days after the Santa incident, I noticed Jim stopping in front of the flag
and tipping his cap. I thought maybe he was adjusting it, but a few days later,
he stopped in front of the flag and saluted it.
There
was some discussion among the family as to whether I should bring Jim home for
the traditional Christmas Eve gathering. My thoughts were that Christmas was
for our family, and Jim was still part of that family.
I
brought Jim home and helped him out of the van and down the walkway. He took
his usual seat on the reclining section of the couch.
Rob
and Colby were playing video games on the TV. Before long, Jim yelled, “Hey!”
and jumped up and started going toward them.
“I
wonder if he wants to play,” I said. At one time, Jim loved video games, and he
played Mario Karts long after he
developed dementia.
Rob
ejected the game they were playing, and inserted Mario Karts into the Play Station.
“Here,
Dad,” he said as he handed Jim a control. Jim didn’t seem to remember how to
use it, so Rob passed the other control to Colby and helped his dad maneuver
the one he held.
After
a few races, Jim remembered how to run the car around the track, but the master
of the game was not competitive.
Colby,
in true Fisher fashion, bragged about winning. “I beat Grandpa!” As young as he
was, Colby was well aware of his grandpa’s reputation for being a formidable
opponent.
After
the game ended, Jim paced up and down the hall, but didn’t try to go out the
door. He showed no interest in opening presents.
After
the gift exchange, we loaded Jim in the van for the trip back to the nursing
home. Jim didn’t notice the cheerful Christmas lights on the houses we passed.
About
halfway through our trip, he yelled and tried to get out of his seatbelt. I may
have bundled him up too much trying to keep him from getting cold, and instead
he was entirely too hot.
We never knew that due to circumstances, and Jim’s declining health, this would be his last Christmas at home.
Copyright
© Dec 2023 by L.S. Fisher
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