Mom was always the best at giving cards for every important occasion!   It is women like her who make Hallmark stock a great investment.  She kept a Hallmark Crown Points reward card tucked in an easy-to-reach slot in her perfectly organized clutch wallet.  In her purse was also a mini Hallmark calendar, the kind they give away at the register before the new year.  In the pocket sized calendar she meticulously recorded every single birthday and anniversary of family members, Sunday School class members, neighbors and long time friends.  Each year, when the new calendar came out, she would take one day before the first of January to transfer each name to the corresponding date, noting the occasion to be remembered.  And, being the super organized person she was, whenever she passed a Hallmark store she was prepared with the calendar, reward card, and usually a coupon for frequent purchasers.

She took special pride in Christmas cards, writing a personal note in most of them, sometimes a quite lengthy one.  Now I, on the other hand, used to type a letter communicating the events and milestones of the previous year on the computer, push print, made “x” number of copies, and felt quite satisfied when I tucked them inside the Christmas cards I mailed.  But Mom hand wrote with a ball point pen, in beautiful cursive writing (which I’ve heard is not being taught in school anymore) lengthy, detailed notes, asking about the recipient’s family, sharing the latest health updates, and wishing each a special time with their loved ones.

Last year was the first Christmas Mom spent in her Memory Care facility.  It is a beautiful building, sectioned off into neighborhoods, fully carpeted, and tastefully decorated with appropriate artwork for the general age of the residing population.  On her floor, which is double locked with a 4 digit code, there are two large living rooms with gas log fireplaces.  A stocking with her name hangs on the mantle, along with those of other residents who are her neighbors.

In order to attempt to keep traditions that were meaningful and important to her, I decided to have her sign Christmas cards…just her name.  I would have Dad sign his name, then I would address them.  Looking back, I don’t know if I did it for her or for me.  Would she really know if she didn’t sign and send out 75 cards?  Would people care if she did not sign them herself?  Would it bother her if her once beautiful signature was barely legible? Would it bother me if other people saw the deterioration in her handwriting?  The answers were no, no. no. and no.

One by one, in small batches of 5-8 cards, I helped her sign them.  Sometimes, she forgot how to hold the pen.  I would point to the area where she could write her name.  We made it a game….”if you sign just 3 more, we can have a snack”.  It was reminiscent of when I was teaching my children how to sign their names.  “That’s beautiful!  You can do it!  It’s OK if you missed a letter.  You did it by yourself, and that’s what counts”.

It took a couple of days with several mini sessions to sign the cards.   But we did it!  I addressed the envelope for each one, and was so very proud to send those cards that My Mom signed.  I probably knew that those would be the last ones she would ever be able to write on.  I knew I would never again receive a carefully chosen card with “I Love You Sooo Much,  Mom”  carefully written in beautiful cursive, and dated so I would know which year it was sent.

I know that those friends and family members who received cards last year probably looked a little harder at the signature to see who it was from.  Perhaps it registered in their minds that there were physical and mental changes occurring in Mom that prevented her from writing legibly.  But I doubt they truly thought about the fact that this was another piece of the puzzle of Mom’s life that didn’t quite fit anymore, and would soon be missing.  Dementia takes things indiscriminately, and there is no lost and found to get those missing pieces back.

Mom did not send cards this year.  She and Dad received dozens, and we made it a point to slit the envelopes so she could “open” them…..that worked with a lot of help.  She seemed to enjoy looking at the pictures.  She would hold them and, if she could figure out how to open them up to view the message inside, she would appear to read the words…..but what her eyes saw in the cards did not process in a meaningful way.  However, she had something bright and pretty to hold, and fold, and stack with all the others. And it took up a few minutes of time after lunch and before her nap.  Because looking at all those cards is so tiring.

As she fell asleep, I arranged the beautiful cards on the windowsill.  She possibly won’t notice them again.  But her wonderful caretakers will see them.  The staff will notice all the gorgeous pictures. Her Hospice nurses will see that she had lots of people who thought enough about her to mail her a Christmas card.  Those cards were sent to her because she’d exchanged greetings with the same people  for years and years before….and they in turn remembered her.

I hand delivered my card to Mom on Christmas.  I had to buy her a special one….I always have and I always will as long as there are Christmas days that I can spend time with my Mom.  I knelt by her wheelchair, held it so she could see, and started to read it to her – “Merry Christmas, Mom, from your Daughter”.  The tears started and wouldn’t stop. It took me 10 minutes, taking multiple breaks, to read through the 3 simple paragraphs.  The rhyming verses were about her patience and support for me, how she was always there, and how she made each Christmas special.  The words did not register with her as the receiver of a loving message from her daughter.  She sat in her chair, looking out the window and at the family members visiting her Christmas morning.  But it made me realize just how precious all these simple little things were, and the memories of past holiday times are perhaps even more special now.  I could not believe that reading a simple Christmas card to my Mom had reduced me to tears…..but it was so much more than that.

I truly cherish all the cards from Mom that I saved through the years.  But, as I look back at cards from years ago, the most special part of each one is the bit of writing, executed thoughtfully and with feeling, written with a ball point pen.