It was a Christmas morning like so many others. The pajama-ed pack sat, each in their designated spots surrounded by their particular pile of presents. The mother was the only one not sitting, busying herself in the kitchen with pans of bacon and eggs lending fragrance to an already warm scene.
Five mostly grown kids bantered back and forth while the grandfather, who was blind, sipped his first coffee carefully. The oldest child, now a young man out on his own, was playing his guitar and singing softly by the bay window. His grandmother came and sat beside him.
Suffering the confusion and resulting agitation brought on by Alzheimer's Disease, the grandmother perched on the love seat by the sun-streamed window with her first grandson, who was a wiry ginger-haired young man. He turned slightly toward her, serenading her with his guitar. Her agitation melted and she began singing along, oblivious to the fact that she did not have a clue about the song or its lyrics. No matter. Grandmother and grandson shared a moment -- an unexpected gift.
Mom passed away in her sleep a month later.
