THE LAST CARD

I set aside the last card and a feeling of increasing depression floods my mind. It used to be an uplifting event, kids then grandkids doing interesting things and achieving temporary greatness (at least to their parents and grandparents.) Taekwondo belts, swimming teams and school awards. Acceptance at prestigious or not so prestigious schools, graduations and jobs, marriages, divorces, children and more children and joined families.  I quickly forgot which children went with which parents or grandparents.

And I clean up the mailing list – changes of addresses, deleting Mr. & or a male first name. But that’s my task every year. Sometimes separating a Mr. & Mrs. Into two entries. And brutally deleting anyone who did not send a card or letter . . .

But this year the depression was greater than in past years. Cancer cured, but still recovering from the aftereffects, Cancer in remission, breast and prostate and colon and skin. Atrial fibrillation, but no mention of a pacemaker. A broken leg or hip. Recovering from the loss of a long term spouse. Trips, more sedate than in the past and moves some into “retirement communities.”

And perhaps the most depressing, a scheduled move for him, into a dementia facility in April, but he hasn’t been told about it yet.

How many stories are incomplete, untold, not appropriate for sharing I wonder. I know I didn’t talk about my new stent, a nice addition to my life acquired late in the year. There is no need to describe that, just list the many trips we took this year and my grandfather’s book of poems I’ve been involved in getting published, and all the other good stuff.

As I think about that, my depression slackens. A small smile eases onto my face and I begin to work on the plans for a trip next summer.