My father-in-law, Glyn, moved to a nursing home in early December. We came bearing gifts on Christmas day – my husband, me, our 10-year old son, along with my husband’s brother and his 11-year old daughter.

Glyn sat in the dining room. A first for him as he had been taking all his meals in his room. He ate his prime rib with gusto as we hovered around the table. Conversation was sparse. I had thought that this visit to the nursing home would be sad but it felt okay.

Holding a gift box and tearing the wrapping paper off was difficult for Glyn. My husband helped him open a large box filled with a heavy black jacket. I wondered if he’d ever get the chance to wear it.

“Did you bring the camera?” my husband asked.

“Yes,” I replied, fumbling in my purse and hoping the batteries were charged.

I focused the camera on my husband, our son, his brother, and our niece as they stood behind my seated father-in-law. I felt a rush of anxiety. Should we be taking this picture?

No, no, not here, not the annual family picture in a nursing home. Pictures would stop with last year. No more, no.

The nervous surge receded. I could take the picture. This is where we gathered, where we honored Glyn this year. I pushed the button, capturing the three generations.

“This is the nicest Christmas I’ve had in a long time,” my father-in-law said.

“I’ll bring his presents to his room,” I said and quickly grabbed the jacket and another gift. His room was a short walk down the hall. I barely made it before bursting into tears.

By Marianne Lonsdale

Labels: annual family picture, By Marianne Lonsdale, Christmas, Gifts, nurseing home, prime rib, tears, video camera

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1. Order carrot cake -- no nuts!
2. Potluck or make food?
3. Stop playing back the scene where I first see Emily, in the Intensive Care Nursery, just three days old, gray, and chemically paralyzed, every orifice filled with wires -- nurses and doctors rushing in. The floor was dingy, the room crowded and loud.
4. Figure out where to stash the dog during the party.
5. Add, “Sorry, kids or adults with colds, please stay home” to the invitations.
6. Cry for two minutes. Wish I could smoke.
7. Breathe in grief. Breathe out gratitude.
8. Decide about food. Making food occupies thoughts.
9. Jumpy house for kid guests?
10. Send first annual love letter to pediatric cardiologist.
11. Maybe Martha Stewart appetizers -- those freaky tiny ones like stuffed grapes?
12. Decide how much furniture to take out to make room for the party.
13. Soften not knowing when she will need the next operation or the next or the one after that.
14. Remember how much of a miracle it is to be able to celebrate this day.
15. Update Emily’s baby book. (Buy one first.)
16. Ask Caroline to play games with the older kids.
17. Assign unflaky friend to write down who gave which gifts.
18. Buy thank you notes -- 75-100.
19. Call hospital for where to donate gifts.
20. Have camera memories cleared -- video and still.
21. Emily: Cardiology appointment on Thursday at 1 p.m.
22. Remember the moms who don’t get to have their babies' birthdays.
23. Borrow extra tables.
24. Send cigars and single malt scotch to Emily’s surgeon; mark Post-Op only!!!
25. Breathe in. Speak kindly. Breathe out. Love generously.

by Avvy Mar

Labels: Avvy Mar, birthdays, cake?, gratitude, thanks, To-Do-List, video camera

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