We’re going to the mall to finish up our Christmas shopping,” my older daughter said, jangling the car keys. “Does Grandpa have his list ready for us?”
“It might be another minute,” I said, nodding toward my father-in-law, who was bent over a piece of paper, his nose almost touching the pencil. Dad’s sight was just about completely gone because of macular degeneration.
This brilliant man who held advanced degrees now had to ask to have things read to him. He had to let other people take over tasks like driving. And Christmas shopping. He finished his list and handed it to me. It was a sketch, really, a picture of the only gift he wanted the girls to find: a hat for Mom.
“She always complains that her head is cold,” he said. “I want to get her a hat that she can wear all the time. The material can’t be too heavy. And it should be blue with little white flowers. Blue would be just right with her blonde hair.”
Despite his failing eyesight, Dad had no trouble seeing the face of the beautiful Swedish girl he had fallen in love with more than 60 years before.
I had to smile at that, but I couldn’t stop worrying about the two of them. They lived too far away for us to keep an eye on them day to day. Was it time for Jeff and me to insist that they move into assisted living?
There were those stairs at their house they had to climb. Their yard required upkeep. And having to rely on their neighbors to run errands must wear on them. I had prayed for an answer during their Christmas visit, but so far my worry only worsened.
The girls returned later that afternoon from their shopping excursion. “We looked everywhere,” my older daughter told me. “Nothing matched Grandpa’s sketch. We did find some pretty pajamas for Grandma. Do you think that will be okay?”
They broke the news to their grandfather. He was disappointed, for sure. Yet another reminder that he could no longer take care of everything. Lord, I said, this is breaking my heart.
Christmas Day came. Everyone had a happy time, and Mom loved the pajamas the girls had picked out. But I couldn’t help wondering how my inlaws would fare when they were back in their own home, alone again.
“How about we hit the sales?” my daughters asked me the next day. The girls and I roamed the mall, looking at purses, jewelry, scarves.
And then, at the department store, I came across a jumbled pile of hats, all shapes, colors and sizes. I thought I saw… but, no. It couldn’t be. A simple blue cotton hat, covered in tiny white flowers. Exactly like Dad’s sketch. I grabbed the hat and headed straight for the cashier.
At home I showed Dad our find. His eyes struggled to focus, then lit up. “Wonderful!” he said. “Could you please wrap it for me?”
Dad proudly presented his gift to Mom. “Christmas is over,” Mom protested as she untied the ribbon. “Why do I have another present?” Her eyes widened. “A hat! Why, that’s just what I needed. My head gets so cold…”
She tried it on and looked in the mirror. “I love the color—and these darling little flowers too!”
My mother-in-law modeled the hat for Jeff and the girls. Dad looked on, satisfied, and I knew that I didn’t need to worry so much about my inlaws. Someone far wiser than I was helping to keep an eye on them, right down to the darlingest blue-and-white-flowered detail.
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