Spread Some Holiday Cheer to Shut-Ins

I've felt "ready" for the holidays for awhile. I was one of those folks who put decorations up the weekend after Thanksgiving and postmarked my holiday cards for December 1st.  There was plenty of chaos during the last week of school before vacation, thanks to in-class parties and holiday diorama making, but in my mind the final days before Christmas were going to be fairly quiet, spent at home with my kids. I figured I had thought of everything.

Of course "quiet at home with kids" doesn't really happen, but there was something major that slipped my radar: my grandmother.

My mom phoned me last night to let me know my grandma was very sad because she hadn't seen any "little children" recently. She has a festive Christmas tree, thanks to my parents. She has beautiful flowers all over her room, thanks to various relatives. She has photographs of grandchildren and of great-grandchildren. But the only people she sees on a regular basis are the hospice nurse, the nursing home attendants, and my parents.

No little children.

I have brought my kids to see their great-grandmother before, but it is typically an uncomfortable situation. My kids beg to leave and I end up pressing them to talk to a person who doesn't look anything like the "Great Grandma" they remember from a couple years ago. Her 97-year-old body is very tired. She sleeps most of the day and has trouble hearing us when we speak. She can sometimes get confused, which then confuses the kids. I have a hard time visiting her because I don't want her to see me cry.

But it shouldn't be about me. I know she wants me there, even if I don't know what to talk about. I know she wants to see my kids, even if they are just stuffing their faces with the cookies that she offers them. I know she just wants somebody there, even if all I do is hold her hand.

When my mom phoned, I felt so sad. How could I forget about my grandma? Sure, I had sent her a card, but I hadn't visited in awhile because I've been ill. I didn't want to be responsible for making her already very tired body very sick. But now that I am no longer hacking up a lung, I don't have an excuse.

Her existence is probably very lonely. My dad is there every day, but if I visit just a couple hours after he does, my grandma wonders where he is and thinks that it has been a very long time since she's seen her son. Sometimes she thinks people who have passed are still alive, so when she asks about them, I am at a loss as to what to say because I don't want her to be devastated, even if I know that she won't remember an hour later.

Given that logic, even if I visit her, or if I bring the kids to visit her, she'll promptly forget that we were there. But I'd hope that for the moment, she'd be happy. I'd hope that part of her will know that we were there and that we love her.

The kids and I went over to see her today. But she was asleep. I tried to awaken her, but couldn't sustain her attention. Two attendants sat chatting in the "living room" area of her room, a sight that made me feel uncomfortable, as if they were violating a sacred space. I was disappointed that I couldn't cheer up my grandmother today, but told my kids we'd try again tomorrow.

But the visit was not in vain. On the way to her room, other retirement home inhabitants smiled at my kids. Some turned their walkers around to see my little blondie boy practicing "Away in a Manger" under his breath as he bore a glass jar filled with candies to give to Great-Grandma. They smiled at my oldest son carrying a plate of cookies, and at me with my green-paper and candy-striped bow decked freesia plant.

As we left, the guests exiting the activities room after their BINGO game waved at my kids. Just seeing little children made them happy. They didn't know who we were, just that we were there. We provided a new sight for them, and in the case of my kids, the presence of little children when they usually see only adults, primarily older adults.

We'll be back tomorrow to see my grandma, but I think I'll have the kids look around the nursing home a bit, too. I won't force them to talk to anyone, but perhaps just "exploring" for them will end up bringing a little bit of cheer to some other folks. I know I should pledge that we'll go door to door with candy canes for every single resident, particularly those who are in bed like my grandmother, but I know I'd be uncomfortable barging in to other people's rooms.

But for those of you who do have relatives who live alone or are bedridden, consider giving them a call - or if you are local, a visit. I wish I had thought of my grandmother without my mother's prompting. I'll try to be better moving forward, because of course I love my grandmother very much, which is exactly why visiting her ends up being so emotional for me.

Nobody should feel lonely during the holidays. And nobody should be alone after the holidays either.

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Original Silicon Valley Moms Blog post, Kari also writes at The Karianna Spectrum.