As 2016 draws to a close and the Holidays are in full swing, I am reminded of the meaning of the word Grateful. It’s synonymous with thankful, glad, appreciative, blah,blah, blah; you get the picture. It is a mantra I practice, telling myself to be grateful, not just during the holidays but everyday, as I believe I have so much more to be grateful for than many in the world.

But this holiday season gratefulness fell on it’s face on more than a few occasions and it made me wonder if we don’t put a little too much pressure on each other during this time of year to be constantly joyful.

I am not sure when the thought first struck me. It may have been when I left a family gathering of aunts, uncles and cousins, with the experience of my Mother being the only person in the room who kept asking all her relatives to reintroduce themselves at every conversation.

Or perhaps it was when Mom and I were at lunch and she asked the server for a beer. She rarely asks for or drinks beer, doesn’t really like it, but insist on ordering it she did!  As we waited for the beer to be served she asked the waitress no less than five times what happened to her drink. Each time I asked mom to be patient, that her beer was on its way, her response was loudly declaring that the drink in front of her (water) was not what she ordered, then announcing, “This thing doesn’t taste like anything!”

But of course it could just have easily struck me as I found myself in the backyard picking up dog poops only to look up to find my mother (who I believed to be in the house) marching around in the grass barely missing stepping on piles that had not yet made it onto my shovel.

 I launched myself at her, grabbing mom’s elbow and trying to steer her to safety, when mom yelled, “Let me go!” As I propelled her along I tried to gently explain to her that she almost stepped in a dog poop with her new shoes. Mom replied with the expected “Who cares I always step in dog poop!” I answered, “Well I care because I am the one who has to clean it off your shoe.”  She responded, “You won’t know because I won’t show you, I will just walk around with it on the bottom of my foot!” as she angrily stormed (well shuffled really) through the backdoor.

As I sulked around the backyard finishing my chore I ruminated about the expectation of constant joyfulness over the holidays and found myself moving into humbug thoughts of envy. Envious of not having unlimited money, so I could take off for parts unknown, leaving my mom in comfortable and competent care for as long as I needed it. Jealous of my cousins who have parents who still fill the room with treasured stories of their past. Resentful of the fellow diners who enjoyed a lunch with a reasonable companion.

As I walked back into the house I found my Mother sitting on her bed, listening to the country music I had put on for her, before I went out to my backyard chores. She was smiling and gently clapping her hands. Mom looked up at me as I walked through the door and exclaimed, “Did you hear this? Isn’t it great? Sit down and listen to this with me, they are really good!”

I looked at her face full of real joy, and I smiled, suddenly feeling embarrassed I ever took the time to be resentful, envious or jealous.  Like she always does, she showed me that parts of the mother I miss so much, still exist.  And if I am patient, they show up often enough to make me grateful Mom is still with me. It’s not constant joy, but it will have to be enough this Holiday season. I will be grateful for what I can get!