Regarding Henry

In 2010, my Dad passed away after a short battle with cancer. He was 86 years old, but he was a young 86. He still worked on a public job four days per week. He learned how to operate a computer at the age of 80, and he was sharp as a knife. He honed his brain well over the years by reading the Bible, writing in a journal every.single.day, and keeping constantly abreast of current events. He was a good and honorable man. His name was Henry.

Even though the family had a small amount of time to prepare for his passing, my Mom was devastated. She was twelve years younger than Dad, and at 18, moved straight from her parents house to a home of her own with Dad. She’d never known any other life than to have someone take care of her. Over the next few years after Dad died, it became apparent to my sister and I that something was awry with Mom. She became increasingly forgetful, her personality changed and she would get fixated on things that had no meaning. She was a victim of Alzheimer’s. And I use the word “victim” because that’s exactly what it felt like to my family. Mom was victimized by the insidious. rampant disease that Alzheimer’s became in her life. But there was a bright spot….someone gave her a soft, snuggly, golden teddy bear. She named it Henry.

Every morning, Mom would make up her bed and prop Henry up in the middle of her pillows. There he stayed until nighttime, when Mom would get in bed, tenderly snuggle Henry and tell him about her day. Mom was a “nester.” She hunkered down under the covers and positioned herself just so, and she did the same to Henry. Henry was with her when she said The Lord’s Prayer every night, just like she and Dad used to do, He was with her when a storm blew over a tree and crashed into her garage. He was with her when her disease progressed and she had to transition into an assisted living facility. And Henry was with her in her room when she she had her glorious appointment day to see Jesus. Henry saw it all.

A few days ago, I went to pick up Moms things from the assisted living facility, and there was Henry, poised on top of her dresser, wonky little eyes fixed on me. He seemed to be asking me a question…”Now what, Elaine?” There could only be one answer to that question. Henry came home with me.

It’s Christmas time, and Henry is sitting on top of my packages by my Christmas tree. He looks like he belongs there. He doesn’t look as young as he once did., but then again, neither do I. His fur is worn from Mom’s hands running over it. There’s a rip in his arm socket that needs mending. And his once perky bow now droops rather sadly. But that doesn’t matter. He was loved, and he has a new home here with me. I may not put Henry on my bed or talk to him just yet, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? I can, however, love Henry because (stuffed mindless bear that he is), he was a witness and a testament to my Mom’s life.

God sometimes sends us things we don’t even know we need. I firmly believe that was the case with Henry. In fact, BOTH Henrys. I was privileged to have Henry Number One as my Waggoner namesake, and now I’m privileged to have Henry Number Two as my keepsake. I can spend my spare time regarding Henry, and thinking of all the events to which Henry was privy. Some I know, and some I’ll never know. Henry does, but he’ll never tell, secret keeper that he is….

Henry on top of mY christmas packages