When we packed up my mom’s stuff, one of the things she had hundreds of, were Christmas cards. She had them in the buffet, she had them in baskets on the floor in the dining room, behind the table. She had Christmas cards in baskets under the end table by the sofa in the little room where she watched television. She had cards in the drawers in those little end tables at either end of the sofa.
I was just amazed at how many she had, seeing as she didn’t send any out. I remember last year before her brain melted as much as it did (thanks, Kaiser Permanente doctors, for giving her that final push), I offered to come take a picture of her at her house, and print up Christmas cards for her and help her address them to her friends. She said “no, let’s wait until I’m feeling better and looking better”.
Well, all of her mail, with the exception of junk mail, is being forwarded to us. And she’s gotten two cards. Just two. Yes, the family knows there’s no need to send her cards this year or any year, for that matter. But where are all the others?
I’ve come to the conclusion, there are none. And there probably haven’t been for years. She just saved them each year she got them. And that’s what I found.
Dad used to do the card giving. Mom was never proud of her handwriting and her arthritis made it hard to write them out and sending cards just became a bother to her. So, she only sent to family.
Of the two cards, one is reminding mom that her membership dues are due now, so it can’t really be considered a card.
So, she got one card.
This just makes me sad, but it also gives me just a little more insight into what her life had become.
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