In the photograph I’m sitting beside my father, a decorated Christmas tree behind us, as he looks at a picture book of horses.
I had given it to him as a Christmas present, knowing that by his stage of Alzheimer’s, words got lost but images still made an impact. What you don’t see in the photo is that the rest of my relatives were there too, which was unusual for our fractured family.
It would be the last time we spent a holiday together. I don’t remember who snapped the picture, but I’m glad they did.
Moments later, my father turned and looked at the tree. He had a puzzled look on his face when he turned back around.
“Why is there a tree in the living room?” he asked. A perfectly understandable question from someone with Alzheimer’s, for whom time and the markers of a holiday are a blank screen. I remember several of us scrambling to explain Christmas and the decorations that go along with it.
He listened and then repeated, “But why is there a tree in the living room?” It occurred to me that explanations were not going to work, but a simple description might.
I said something like, “It’s so pretty to have a tree inside sometimes. People do that at this time of year, and it’s so nice to look at.” The puzzled look went away; he nodded and returned to the picture book of horses.
Through the holiday season, there will be many families who share a table with someone who has Alzheimer’s or some other version of dementia, who might not grasp what the holiday is.
They see people around them and a table laden with food, but they don’t know why everyone is there and, frankly, they don’t care what the reason is …
