For a while, on Christmas Eve, the stranger who sometimes moves into Connie’s mind these went away and she came back….
THERE IS A stranger who creeps into Connie these days. We never know when it is coming and when it is going and such is dementia. The stranger can be bitter, it can almost be mean, it can be confused, and it can be an alien presence beyond description. Such is dementia. Such is the loss of the one who was and the emergence of the one who is…well, whatever dementia wants it to be.
But as the dementia path becomes narrower, more filled with ruts and stones, there come small side trails, paths that lead back to joy if only for a moment.
This is a Christmas story, maybe our last. That will be up to dementia.
I picked Connie up at the memory care center later afternoon on Christmas Eve as dusk was falling. We walked to the car – her with small careful steps, me on a cane nursing a knee replacement. It was cold, as it should be on Christmas Eve. We were bound for our son’s house a couple of miles away for a quiet night of snacks and gifts and Christmas movies.
We never know how long visits will be these days. Sometimes the stranger comes with us and after an hour or two it will take over Connie’s voice and say “I want to go.” And so we go. My son and his family, me, we are past trying to talk her out of decisions.
Tonight we settle in with Chevy Chase on the television, the tree sparking, Seth, Diane and granddaughter Sam all snug in their chairs, the dogs cuddling and licking. We talk and laugh and after a while, I realize the stranger has gone and Connie is back.
She laughs her laugh, a natural silly laugh. She remembers a scene from the movie. She remembers a Christmas past. After our snacks we open gifts and she radiates joy. For a while it is easy to forget what we know awaits us, the decline, the pain. We are in presence of Connie and this presence is a present beyond anything we could hope for.
An hour stretches into two, then three and finally we get up to go. But we are not going out of surrender but because it is time to go and there are smiles and hugs.
Out in the car, shivering until the heater catches up. Connie turns to me with a smile and says “that was a wonderful evening.”
It was. It was an evening of crisp air, sparkling lights, laughter and love. It was special.
Connie came home for Christmas.
Our best to everyone.
Rich Heiland has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. He has worked as a consultant doing public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development. He and his wife, Connie, live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].