Christmases that have passed often become a blur, but some stand out and will be cherished forever. My dad's last Christmas at home started off as a disaster, but ended up being very special.
Over ten years ago, my father rapidly became weaker due to a serious illness that severely affected his ability to walk and speak. We knew the time was coming when he would need 24-hour skilled care. His mother worked tirelessly to make his life comfortable and keep him at home as long as possible, with the support of part-time caregivers and nearby family members.
The broken poinsettia was a small incident, but it was a huge setback. “Is everything going wrong?'' my mother asked, starting to cry.
It was just before Christmas that my dad found the words, “It's time” and lovingly helped our family make the difficult decision of when to look for a nursing home. He was a generous and caring man who tried to do everything he could to help his wife and family, even during these terrible times. His consent to this last move was a gift he offered. We found a nice facility nearby that my mother could go to every day, and we decided to move in the new year.
Nursing care is also difficult. My mother, who might have been enjoying her golden years of travel and leisure, was now a 24-hour caregiver, and having served in that role for several years, she was extremely tired.
But we still have one last Christmas at home! Their children and grandchildren will all be there, including those who live in other cities and have started creating Christmas traditions with their families. We all gathered in our hometown and made plans to celebrate our last Christmas with the whole family at my parents' house.
My mom was excited about this Christmas gathering and gave us strength in planning a great meal and time for us to spend together. The out-of-town family was scheduled to arrive on Dec. 23.
However, late on the night of December 22, things got very bad.
My father experienced a medical emergency that resulted in a serious fall. My mother called an ambulance and contacted my wife and I, who lived in the same city. When we arrived at her house, an ambulance was already taking my father to the hospital, and my mother had decided to drive herself to pick him up.
Her night got even worse. While driving alone to the hospital just after midnight, my mother's car got a flat tire and we had to stop on the side of the highway. My wife and I changed course and headed to where my mother was stuck. Before we arrived, she called to let us know that a police officer had pulled up behind her. After hearing about her situation, he kindly offered to drive her to the hospital. My wife and I turned around again and arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. I left to take care of the abandoned car while my wife comforted my mother and helped her with hospital procedures.
By the time the rest of the family started arriving the next day, my father was checked into a hospital room and treated for his injuries.
He will not be discharged from hospital until after Christmas, meaning his last Christmas at home will not exist.
Over the next 36 hours, family members constantly came in and out of his hospital room. As the afternoon of Christmas Eve progressed, the family decided to celebrate Christmas Eve together in his hospital room.
Gifts from parents to grandchildren and gifts to father and mother were also brought into the room. It was decided to be held in the hospital room on Christmas Eve. Some decorations were also brought in, and although there is no Christmas tree in the room, a large and beautiful poinsettia was brought in from my mother's house.
As dusk approached on Christmas Eve, families gathered at the hospital, grandchildren carrying presents from cars, and women carrying decorations to decorate their rooms.
However, during shipping, some of the presents shifted and fell on top of the poinsettia, knocking it over and breaking some of the stems. A broken poinsettia was left in the car.
When the whole family gathered in the hospital room, my mother asked about the poinsettia and was told of its fate. Although I am disappointed that this year's Christmas did not go as I had hoped, I have continued to tackle the challenges stoically. Considering everything that had happened in the past 48 hours, a broken poinsettia was no small thing, but it was too much. “Is everything going wrong?'' my mother asked, starting to cry.
The daughters-in-law led her into the hallway to comfort her, while the others remained to sing Christmas songs for their father. Meanwhile, the two older grandchildren went back to the car to pick up the scattered parts of the poinsettia. They took the pieces back to the hospital and carefully reattached the broken branches to their original stems using duct tape borrowed from the nursing station.
The boys enthusiastically brought the taped together poinsettias into the hospital room, but it was their father's turn to get emotional. There were a few tears at first, followed by his hearty laugh as the boys demonstrated their poinsettia repairs. It was the laugh we all know so well, but we haven't heard much lately.
The whole family returned to the room, and my mother was smiling with pride at the love her children and grandchildren had shown her, her father, and each other. We sang carols and opened presents. There were lots of hugs and lots of laughter.
At its center was a beloved man whose earthly race was about to end, and a poinsettia held together with duct tape. That poinsettia will forever be a cherished memory for the family gathered in that hospital room.
