My aunt wrote a short story for the Alzheimer Society of Ontario's website, about our very last Christmas meal we all had with her, and it breaks me every time I read, but then I remember the great happy moments we had that day. Below is our story about our family's "Last Shared Meal" with her.
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It all starts in October 2005 when we find out my grandma has an aggressive brain tumor. Her kids take her to a specialist thinking it is dementia. But later the doctor shows us an x-ray of a giant tumor in her brain and says she will be dead before December.
The family springs into action. We arrange ourselves – four siblings and spouses – to provide her with 24-hour care that allows her to stay in her home. Steroid injections keep her going for a few weeks until she regresses with a form of accelerated dementia.
We will her to live until Christmas and throw ourselves into the preparation of our last Christmas together with her. My brother and sisters agree that we deserve to splurge on a caterer this year.
Instead of stressing, we decorate the house and watch my mother’s eyes light up. We arrange for professional Christmas carolers to come to the house and sing just for her. We each take care in buying little things for her stocking even if she doesn’t know what they are all about.
Every day on the calendar is checked. December 15…still alive. Seven days more and she has stopped talking but nods her answers. The community nurse is amazed there are no brain seizures from the tumor and her vital signs are still good. We chose to believe it’s because she is calm and surrounded by love. December 22nd…23rd all is well. On Christmas Eve she is sitting with us as we sing carols just like she did when us when we were small.
Finally, it’s morning. There are 14 of us and we try to keep the day normal. As dinner approaches, we seat her at the table while we watch out the snowy window for the catered meal. At last the food is brought steaming through the door.Potatoes, vegetables, cranberries and turkey are whisked in the door. As my husband carves into the large turkey, he lets out a loud groan. We all see the jellied pink flesh of the undercooked turkey under the slightly crisp skin.
Panic ensues. We hack the turkey into massive chunks and race around in circles to warm them in the oven, the microwave and toaster oven. We try desperately to cook this bird for our last Christmas feast with my mother. “We can do it…,” we all shout as my mom looks on calmly at the fuss around her. The pieces of turkey are brought back for careful examination, but the grim truth is apparent to everyone. You can’t cook a turkey in a microwave even if it’s in pieces. I can see the headlines: “Family kills dying mother with salmonella poisoning at Christmas.”
At this point, some of us are laughing and others resigned. My sister finally remembers the small ham she brought and saves the day. Keeping all our traditions intact, we pull the Christmas crackers, raise a cheer and laugh with my mom.
A last Christmas dinner together filled with such love that I would never forget it.
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As I stated above that day was one of the saddest but most grateful days we got to spend with her. I can still remember all of us laughing about the turkey and laughing even harder when we decided to order Swiss Chalet for our Christmas day dinner. It is hard sometimes around these last few days before Christmas because she will never be there to join in on all the amazing moments our family does. I am sad that she will never get to meet Bella, because I know she would have spoiled her(more then she already is). What I do know is that she is above up there somewhere watching over us and hoping that we never ever order from that caterer again lol!.
R.I.P Grandma
Love you so much.
