The Widower

Why a Little Christmas Tree Seems Destined for a Trash Bin

Now that the holidays are past, the decorations have come down and the wrapping papers and ribbons are being tucked away, I intend to reorganize the basement once again.

It’s chaos down there, disorder that began even before Thanksgiving, when yet another home improvement project required me to pull out boxes and bins stacked in storage.

That’s when I found a tangle of our dog Molly’s leashes—four of them in all, besides the two I use now.

I uncovered a plastic bag containing these four extra dog leashes in my basement.

You might ask, why so many? That’s because in the chaos of my late wife Cheryl’s mind, we were always losing Molly’s leashes. I’d buy another, and that, too, would promptly vanish. Instead of finding one on the coat tree next to the door, or on a hook in the hall closet, I might discover one under the bed, tucked into a packed bin, or shoved into an overstuffed drawer.

It was aggravating and infuriating. Every time we were about to take Molly for a walk, we had to go on a scavenger hunt. Even more frustrating, as Cheryl’s dementia worsened, I often went on these searches myself. If Cheryl even started to help, she’d soon forget just what it was we were looking for.

I finally solved the problem. Each time we returned from a walk, I removed and stuffed Molly’s leash in my coat or jacket pocket. Cheryl never thought to look there, and I could always count on it being there the next time we ushered Molly out the door.

After Cheryl moved to a memory care facility here in Janesville, Wisconsin, in February 2023, I no longer needed six leashes. I hung two on that aforementioned coat tree and stuffed the extra four in a plastic bag and placed it atop boxes of Christmas decorations. When I rediscovered them this fall, memories of those frustrating searches poured forth.

Unpacking those decorations to adorn the house for the holidays stirred more memories. That’s when I stumbled across a two-foot tall artificial Christmas tree. As the 2023 holidays approached, a family friend came with me to visit Cheryl in memory care, and as we parted, he asked me if I’d be buying a tabletop tree to decorate and brighten Cheryl’s days in her place of confinement.

The idea made sense, and I bought the little tree at Walmart, paying less than $10. I selected a few nice ornaments from home, making sure not to choose keepsakes that I might not want to see broken or stolen. After all, her engagement and diamond rings had disappeared months earlier, never to be found.

Hoping to engage Cheryl in the process of adorning the tree, I found a spot on a little table in her room at the memory care facility and pulled out a shoebox full of ornaments. Unfortunately, rather than help me decorate it, she was content to watch. In her advanced state of dementia, she didn’t even crack a smile. Still, I like to think it brought some undetected joy to her otherwise joyless days.

Mere weeks after those holidays, Cheryl moved to an Agrace Hospice inpatient facility, and friends and I hauled her belongings back to our house. Among those were that two-foot tree.

Looking at it now, it’s rather sad, a pathetic specimen. It’s about what one might expect for a few dollars at that big box store.

I decorated this tabletop tree for my wife during her last holiday season, at a memory care facility.

So the question is, should I save it? I doubt I will display and decorate it for future holidays. Uncovering it as I again mine decorations I intend to use each future holiday will only bring sad memories and heartache.

More than likely, in the coming days, that pathetic little tree will wind up at the curb.

However, that won’t conclude the post-holiday decisions.

Cheryl loved the holidays and buying ornaments to commemorate places we saw on our travels across the United States. Ornaments from Seattle, Savannah, and St. Louis are among them. She ignored my pleas that we had more than enough.

After Cheryl left for that memory care facility, I sold 100 ornaments, sent others to charities and a consignment shop, and after decorating a year ago, found I still had too many. I placed fifty in a “discard” bin, and after failing to sell them online, I donated them to the Salvation Army thrift store in Janesville.

And yet, I still have too many. For years, forty ornaments graced a four-foot sports-themed tree in our kitchen. That one stayed in storage this holiday season.

My girlfriend Jennifer helped me decorate the big three that stood in a corner of the living room. When we ran out of spots to hang ornaments, we still had 100 more to go. These we sorted into two bins—one to keep and one to offer to charity. When Jennifer helped me remove the ornaments earlier this month, we again sorted them into two bins—one to keep and one to pass along.

Sure, some memories of Cheryl and our many sightseeing adventures will disappear with those ornaments that go to charity. However, life must move on.