Christmas At Our House
In bringing Christmas to Al I have spent a lot of time in his room today since he is home. Pulling…
Christmas At Our House
In bringing Christmas to Al I have spent a lot of time in his room today since he is home. Pulling…
In bringing Christmas to Al I have spent a lot of time in his room today since he is home. Pulling out boxes and bags, looking for Coca Cola Christmas items. He was so engrossed with what I was bringing out the tears stopped.
When I first started bringing him things he cried. Each new piece, brought more tears. Then I started pulling out items he has not seen since he has been home from the Nursing Home. The tears slowed. I decorated his room with greenery and before the afternoon was over I had completely transformed his room into Christmas. Reds and Christmas music floated around him.
Holiday Snoopy, Charlie Brown stuffed animal that plays Merry Christmas, a musical globe with the traditional Christmas colors all lightened his spirit. I told him that since he didn’t think he would be here for Christmas I was going to prove to him that he was here for Christmas by bringing it to him.
Mickey Mouse is playing his horn. The ramp I push Al down in the mornings and afternoons are all decorated with silver tinsel and red bows. I found Christmas music on U Tube and our house has turned from death to gaiety.
It is sort of odd. The house is quiet from family and kids and yet there is a peace that is flowing through our house as Al smiled at me as he looks at his collections of red, greens and sparkles in his room with music playing softly in the background. It is truly Christmas inside our house and Al isn’t missing a thing.
Mother’s grabbed their children’s hands and hurried and crossed the street. Men in business suits tossed coins. Teens laughed and sneered. Some even threw rocks. Mr. P is what he was nicknamed.
I heard someone call him that when I went into the grocery store to purchase my month supply of groceries. The government was good to me. I got ninety dollars a month for food. I lived in a room across the street from the store. My son owns the building. He went to a lot of trouble. He turned my one room into two. He took the closet and turned it into my own private toilet. He put in a used stool and a small sink. It had a lot of rust in it, but it was mine and I knew how to use a scrub brush. He don’t even charge me any rent.
Every morning I would get up and reheat the coffee left over from the night before. I get stamps for food but I do have to be careful. Every day I sit at the table my son gave me. It is pretty old, sort of wobbly. I only got one chair, but that’s alright, because it is only me. I had to put some paper under one of the legs so I didn’t knock my coffee over.
I watched the old man walking down the street. He wasn’t a beggar mind you. He was just hungry. I never did see this man hold out his hand one time like I seen those other lazy people doing. You know, those ones who could work but don’t feel like it.
No siree, Mr. P, this is what the store calls him, he goes looking for free food. Maybe he be lucky some days and the local restaurant will throw out some outdated bread or rolls. Old Mr. P will stand near by and wait patiently for something to eat.
My old ticker beats so fast when I see him wandering the streets. I just wanna help him so bad, but I can barely feed myself. One time I did get some cash for Christmas from my son. I took it to the store and bought a few extra things. I made up a Christmas plate and when I saw Mr. P go walking by, I raced outside and handed it to him. Yep, I just placed it in his hands. I didn’t give him a chance to say no. I just said, ” Merry Christmas Mr. P.”
You know that very next Valentine’s Day I found a card laying at my front door. Whoever slid it under the door didn’t sign it, but I always figured it was Mr. P’s way of saying thank-you. I still got that card. Nope, I won’t throw it a way. First Valentine Card I have had in years.
You know, I used to have life so much better. I was really quite a pretty thing, or so the guys in my station used to say. I was a nurse. I worked as a nurse in the Army, but one day I got a surprise letter in the mail. It pretty much stated I was getting too old. It said I had to retire, that I had done my duty.
I got a nice retirement out of it though and I really loved my job. Helping all those soldiers that got hurt. I made a lot of friends, I did. Yep, all over the world. I used to write a lot of letters but most of them are dead now.
My son handles my retirement money. He gives me this place to live. I guess I should be most thankful for the things he does for me, but I always thought getting old wouldn’t be like this.
Now old Mr. P, he is in the same boat as me practically. He served in the war. He was a damn good soldier, so I’m told. But he went and hot himself injured. He got hurt real bad. He lost his leg. Yep, that’s why he limps. He has a wooden stump. Sort of makes him walk a little funny. That’s how he got his name, Mr. P, short for peg leg.
He got sent home on a discharge. He did come back home and he took up living with his parents. His parents I heard was real poor. They took his money and promised him a place to live but they needed his money to help feed all of them.
Well you guessed it, they both up and died. No, not at the same time. When the Mom died, the Dad ended up in a home. The bank came and threw old Mr. P out because there was no money to pay the nursing home payments with. Yeah, can you believe it? They threw old Mr. P right out on his ass. Left him with his clothes and his wooden stump. They didn’t even try to find him a place to live. Well that’s what I heard. That’s why you see him walking by all the stores each day. The poor man served his country, and matter of fact, so did I, and yet look where we both are now.
Yeah, I guess life isn’t what we think it will be when things happen, but we got to do the best we can and hopefully the good Lord will look down on us and smile. He will keep giving me a roof and poor old Mr. P some food. Well, that’s what I heard.
These past few days of cooler weather cause my mind to wander back to earlier times. Trick-or-treating. Mom never bought us those pricey costumes. She would make us up in what ever she had around the house at the time. One time I was a scarecrow.
Another year I can remember she made me go in a white sheet. She just cut out the eyes and used magic markers to blacken the eyes. No one was going to recognize me right? Wrong, all my family members did, probably because Mom was standing in the background.
When I got to be a teenager I did things I should have not done. I tasted my first wine one Halloween night.
Boone Farm Strawberry Wine. Boy did I think I was big stuff. Maybe for that paragraph in time I was, but that was it.
Now that I am an adult I still like to decorate. One year when I lived where there were plenty of little ones knocking at my door I dressed up as a witch and passed out treats. The kiddies were a little frightened but I calmed them down by taking off my mask for them. Those were good times.
Part of the reason for decorating is to enjoy the looks and words of people who really enjoy this time of the year.
I never looked at it as a real demon day. It was all in fun, an opportunity to bring my childhood memories back to life for one evening.
But now there are no trick-or-treaters where I live. Al could care less if I decorate or not. He doesn’t get excited about any of it.
I usually put up some purple lights inside the house. I put up an electric Pumpkin in the window. I play some eerie sounds.
For one eve I have some fun. I let loose and go back in time where life was good. Time was forever. The word worry was unheard of.
Pause whatever you’re doing, and ask the person nearest you what
they’re thinking about (call someone if you have to). Write a post
based on it.
There was no one to ask so I looked at the TV that was playing noise in the background. It happened to be the Roseanne Show. This episode is about her husband having lunch with an old-time ex girlfriend.
Whoa! I used to be a regular visitor to this show. I would watch and laugh all the way through it. Inside somewhere deep in me I always wished to be like her without the rudeness.
I have a hard time speaking my thoughts when I am standing in front of another human. My goal in my life has always been to show love and kindness without hurting your feelings ever.
To this day I find this is a terrible way to live. To not be able to voice my thoughts in a nice way hurts me in so many ways. For one, I give people the idea that I go along with what they are trying to convince me of. I will give until the one that hurts in the end is always me.
Now I am to the point that I worry about my own future because of fear to speak up for myself. What is wrong with speaking the truth? Why am I afraid that I will lose relationships if I don’t agree with others? Am I really being fair to them or to me?
I do enjoy helping others but there is a line that should not be crossed. For in the end when I am in need I realize that I am on my own. I have gotten better by speaking up more, thanks to many friends here at WP.
But it has also caused issues because I am not the same person that others thought I was. I don’t want to be considered a push over. I don’t want others to think just go hit her up. Use the right words and you can get what you want.
If I was trading places with Roseanne my words would not be so kind and gentle. My words would not tremble out of my mouth. My hands wouldn’t sweat and the fear of losing friends and family would not enter my mind. My knots in my stomach would be gone.
Roseanne would say, This is the way it is for me. These are my thoughts and mine alone. If you don’t like it tough. If you don’t agree with me, fine. Don’t let the door hit you in the butt as you fly out of my house. I will be here waiting for you when you cool off and we can continue with our friendship.
Then she would go about her business of running her day and loving her family. She has a way with words. I think she is a little rough around the edges but in all, she does get her ideas across. And let’s face it, she must have done something right, because she was a big hit for several years, she is on syndicated stations every day, and she lives on her own island today. Retired and growing nuts. Her bank account will take care of her until death over takes her.
Yesterday was the first time in I don’t even know when, that I was relaxed. Not totally, but
no upset stomach, no vomiting my food. I smiled, I laughed. In between the laughs, I felt pangs of guilt, but tried to use my emotional broom and sweep them out the front door.
I wondered if Al was smiling, was he laughing? Did I have a right to laugh, to feel relaxed, while I leave him at his new home? I did not go visit him yesterday, but instead cleaned my house, turning up my country music. Today, it was mixed between country and country Christmas. I swept the house, dusted, did a load of laundry, mopped my floors.
I worked on a Christmas project, and then in the afternoon, I became a fly on the wall out in the Christmas shopping world, sometimes buzzing in low on an item I thought may be a good deal. I had a really good time.
I took my time and comparison shopped and tried not to pick items up only because it was marked a Black Friday Sale. My wings took me down aisles that I had not been down in years. I went down the craft aisles, the toy aisles, the seasonal areas, I went just about anywhere that my nose led me, in looking for bargains.
My brother told me that he really wants this object he saw on the television. He said it is a Hallmark ornament, and that it looked like a radio, and when you flipped a button, it played music. Al is really into anything that plays music. I will be looking for it for sure. He also said that he wants new sleeper pants and sweat pants and short sleeve shirts. He has never offered me a Christmas wish list, so this pleased me. It is so much easier to shop with a list.
So all in all, I spent some good, quality time with myself, and other than the pings of guilt, I did pretty good for the entire day. Monday will roll along, and everyone will be rid of the over shopping and get back to business, and I will be placing an ad in the paper again, hoping to find a caregiver job near by.
After I was home for a while, I started to slide down a bit, and I fought it. I don’t want to be this way, so I turned the Sirrus Christmas music station on, and did this!! I know it is early, but I would have put it up in two days any ways, and it kept me busy. Well, almost seven pm, so I better go eat!
To each of you have a blessed Thanksgiving!!
She was lost. A mother of five, alone at 85, her home now in the Butler Nursing Home. She had been placed there five years ago by her children.
Their reason for placement was she was getting old, and they did not have time to keep coming over and checking in on her. They had their careers, and their kids who were in sports, and dance, and they just felt it better to place her so they did not have to worry about her not eating, or maybe falling and no one would know immediately.
Sometimes on a Sunday, she would get a visit from a church member or the minister would stop by, and once a week, one of her kids would call her and talk to her for about five minutes.
She had been a hard-working woman in her younger days. She raised her five kids, pretty much alone. Her husband had been killed in the war, and although she received benefits from his death, times were tough, and she took in ironing from the city folk, and she cleaned the church building.
It didn’t give her much money, but she managed to put food on the table and to keep her kids clothed and in school. One time the school needed someone to clean the main part and they couldn’t find anyone qualified, but due to the need to want to buy Christmas gifts, the head master gave her a chance to do this,when she came to him offering him her services, so each year, about three weeks before Christmas, this mother would go in and clean, for the Christmas pageant, which helped her buy gifts for her kids.
She could not afford much, but was able to buy each child a doll for the girls and trucks for the two boys. She sewed stockings and made hand-made soaps, pieces of chocolates, some cookies. She would stuff their stockings on Christmas Eve.
Now, here it was, Christmas Eve, and she felt lost. She had wandered outside to the court-yard of the facility, and she was trying to go home. Home to where her little kids were waiting for her, waiting to be read their bed time story, waiting for their Christmas gifts the next morning, crying because they did not know where mama was. She was alone, alone on Christmas Eve, and the following day brought no brighter hope.
1. Do you think the adult children made the right decision by placing their mama, and if so why, or why not?
2. How do you feel about the idea that the adult children did not actually visit their mama?
What could you suggest, that would make this mama’s life a little less lonely?