Chaplain's Corner

It would be his last Christmas on earth, he knew it, the family knew it, yet he had made it clear to them that he wanted this Christmas to be just like every Christmas. Harold had been diagnosed with a rather aggressive cancer in August, he was receiving chemotherapy, but the oncologist told him it was palliative chemo, it would help keep him comfortable but it wouldn’t put the brakes on the cancer at all.

Harold had asked the oncologist, “How long do I have?” and received the response, “Less than six months.” As Harold pondered the response he counted on his fingers, “Let’s see – August, September, October, November, December, that’s five months, I might just make it to Christmas.”

That became his goal. He told his wife and kids that he wanted Christmas to be just like it always had been. He didn’t want a lot of boo-hooing; he just wanted everything to be like it always had been. Christmas had always been one of the family’s best times. But as much as Harold wanted everything to be just like it always had been – it wasn’t.

It isn’t that the family didn’t go out on the last weekend of November and cut down their tree and bring it home – they did. It wasn’t that the tree looked better out in the woods than it did in the living room – as always – it did. That’s the way it was every year; they always had to put the tree in the corner because there was always a side of the tree that had a bald spot. Carol, Harold’s wife, had baked everyone’s favorite cookie, just like she had for the last twenty-five years. And the plans for the Christmas Eve sleepover at the house were all made. Each year in November, the same day they cut the tree, Harold would get all the grandkids together and they would have a lottery to determine where each of them would sleep on Christmas Eve. The lottery started about five years ago when the grandchildren began squabbling over who got to sleep in the bedroom connected to the living room and who would sleep in the bedroom in the basement. Everyone wanted to be in the room closest to the tree. The basement room was just too far from all the Christmas Morning action. Grandpa’s lottery at least gave each of the grand kids the hope that they had a chance at the special room every Christmas.

But no matter how much nothing changed, everything was different. Never before had Christmas approached with such a cloud over the day. As much as everyone was trying to make things just the way they had been, things were not the way they had always been and this was making everyone crazy.

One day early in December Sam, the youngest grandson who was ten years old announced that he didn’t want to have Christmas at Grandpa’s house this year. He wanted to have Christmas at his own house. When pressed as to why he gave voice to what everyone else was thinking but afraid to say. He said, “Because it won’t be the same. I’m too sad to try to pretend that everything is fine.”

That evening Sam’s mom called Grandpa and shared what Sam had said. Harold thanked his daughter for sharing it and said he would get back to her after he had some time to talk to Carol. After the phone call Harold and Carol had a long talk. It was the first time since August that Harold allowed any conversation about his cancer and the prognosis. He hadn’t realized that his desire to have one last Christmas like all the others was having such a deep impact on the family.

It was tow and one half weeks till Christmas and Harold decided that he had better take the lead in helping his family deal with what was happening. He called all the kids and invited them over for dinner on Sunday and told them it was very important that they all be there and everyone made being there a priority. After dinner Grandpa asked everyone to come into the living room. The living room was crowded, Grandpa satin his favorite chair by the window and everyone else found a spot. The air was thick with apprehension, what did Grandpa want to share?

After everyone was settled Harold began, “I want to apologize for my selfishness. It has been selfish of me to not allow our family to talk about my cancer and the fact that I will die in just a short time. I hope you will forgive me.” The murmur of “we forgive you” swept around the room. “I want to thank Sam for being courageous enough to express his real feelings. Sam, you helped me realize how wrong I was and that it is high time we deal with what is happening to me together. Thank you Sam.” Sam crawled into Grandpa’s lap and buried his face in his chest. His eyes were full of tears.

Harold continued, “I have cancer, the doctor figures I had about six months back in August. Four of those months are already gone and I can feel the cancer at work in my body. I can imagine you see it too. Christmas will not be the same this year and it can’t be; it was foolish of me to think that it would. I would very much like to spend my last Christmas on earth with all of you here in this home where we have so many wonderful memories. I know this will be hard for all of us. I want you to have my blessing to feel whatever you feel and to be open about your feelings. If we need to cry, then let’s cry. If as we share the time we experience laughter and joy, then let’s express it well. I just want to be together and I want it to be real, these last four months of pretending that nothing was wrong has been hard on all of us. I’m really sorry I asked that of all of you.”

Harold went on, “This year I would like to change our tradition in one way. Christmas morning after breakfast and after we read the Christmas story from the Bible, I want to give each of you a special blessing. I will write them down and give them to you so that you will have them after I am gone. This will be my gift to you this Christmas. I’m sure Grandma will have some presents for each of you as well.”

The next few weeks were hard, but not nearly as hard as the four previous months. There was a lot of crying but also a lot of laughing. The kids stopped by more often, Harold’s condition worsened noticeably and it was necessary to move a hospital bed into the bedroom just off the living room. Palliative care nurses and home care workers began to come and go with frequency, Helping Carol take care of Harold’s needs and giving Carol the space to grieve. Christmas arrived and with it all the grandkids. The lottery had fallen to Sam this year to spend this Christmas Eve in the bedroom off the living room. Although the bed that was normally there had been moved to the basement and the hospital bed that Grandpa used was in that room, Sam brought his sleeping bag and spread it out on the floor. In fact, before the lights went out, there were six sleeping bags spread out around Grandpa’s bed and before anyone went to sleep there were stories of summer vacations and camping trips and they all laughed till they cried when Grandpa told the story of how he caught the rubber boot filled with mud.

Christmas morning came, Grandpa shared his blessings with each member of the family (that year it was the best gift that anyone received). There were tears and smiles and hugs and laughter. Harold was wiped out by 3 p.m. and everyone decided to head home and give Grandpa a rest. That afternoon Harold fell asleep with a smile on his face and he never woke up again.

For all those facing Christmas this year knowing it will be your last on earth; be real, feel and share your feelings together and find a special way to bless each other. God Bless you and Merry Christmas.