Honoring What Is Special

“Put these in for me,” Mom said, holding up a pair of aqua earrings. They were a Christmas gift from my son, Steven. Mom only wore these earrings on special occasions.

We were going to the grocery store. As her Alzheimer’s had progressed, the store had become her favorite outing. She could no longer make a grocery list and often wanted products we already had at home, but this weekly routine still gave her a sense of accomplishment.

She slowly pushed our cart down each aisle, examining every item. I wanted to tell her to hurry up. The store should not take two hours. I had to keep reminding myself that this was her only outing for the week, and it was important to her.

Checking out with our groceries was no faster. She kept trying to engage the clerk in conversation. What should have been a quick trip to the store had taken up my entire morning.

When we finally got home, Mom put her groceries away, and then told me, “Now put my earrings back.” As I placed them carefully in her jewelry box, I admired their beauty. It was as if I were seeing them for the first time. I realized they weren’t merely an accessory for her; they were a special gift to be worn on the days that meant so much to her. Days that would now mean so much to me.