A little jingle floats through my ears as the street decorations sway in the wind. The twinkle of the lights glistens against the darkness of the night. There is a certain silence, eerie perhaps, but strangely comforting. Further down the street, shop lights are still on, dazzling and dancing out of their sockets. Packed windows display their wares in the most attractive way so passersby cannot resist the temptation to spend all they have. Is this Christmas?

Jesus rests in his mother’s womb as her term soon comes to an end and he will be born. Yet the poverty in the stable where Mary rests is a harsh contrast to what the world has turned Christmas into.

We shower our families with endless presents, costly, lavish, excessive, extravagant and sometimes even wasteful. We cannot help ourselves. (I’m guilty too). Christmas makes us want to give and give we do, perhaps more than we can afford. Yet, what is this word ‘give’. Jesus came into the world as a gift, he was given to us. Maybe that sentiment still lives in our souls and the feeling of giving is not twisted, but it is sincere.

Christmas is beautiful to many, sad to some, and over-stimulating to others. People living with dementia fall into the last category. The bright lights, loud noises, crowds, shuffling of feet, total chaos, frenzied movements, wow! A person with dementia feels overwhelmingly threatened and may go deeper into the loneliness and confusion of their situation.

Somone asks me what to gift them for Christmas? They are ready to open their wallets because they feel for their loved one but don’t know what to give.

My advice to them and to you is to put your money away and take the time to spend with them. This is the best Christmas present they yearn to receive. I learnt this the first Christmas mum spent in the Care Home.

We decided to bring you to my home on Christmas Eve. It was your birthday, and we thought my flat would be better than your actual home. Dad was with us, and we had a lovely Christmas lunch together, chatting away while you looked on in silence.

After lunch, we moved to the sitting room and you sat on the sofa. Dad brought you his present and then we did. A tear rolled down your face. A face that showed many emotions, some sad, maybe some happy ones. We did not know. Yet that tear replaced the words you would have loved to say but you had lost the ability to. We were unsure, hoping that we had brought some happiness to you on this important day, this special time.

Our answer came a few hours later. We took you back to the Care Home and left for the night. You didn’t sleep and spent the rest of the week banging on the door begging to be let out and come home.

That was the last time we took you home. The question remained of how we could help you. The answer was there. Spending time with you in the Care Home was all we could do. It left us empty and helpless in that we wanted to do so much more. Yet, for you, mum, it was a win. You just wanted us to be there, you just needed us to be there. Was our time more precious than all the money in our pockets? I will always say it was, especially for Dad who spent the rest of his days by your side.

Yet, for you who are reading this I ask…how precious is your time? Think about it in the silence of your heart. Close your wallet and put it away in your pocket, in your bag. Switch your mobile phone off. Shut down your thoughts from the outside world. Now is the most precious time in the world – this is the greatest gift you can give – yourself, your presence of mind and the kindness and love that emits from your heart to your loved one. It is that simple. Nothing else matters.

I wish you all a peaceful time in Christmas and pray that you open your heart to Jesus to rest there. Christmas is the time he came into the world – do not turn your face the other way. Give from your soul the way he gives himself to yours.

Times of Malta photo taken on 13th December 2024 at the Palace

Times of Malta announces:

Prof. Charles Scerri was appointed to the National Order of Merit during the Republic Day award ceremony on Friday. 

President Myriam Spiteri Debono awarded the recipients of Malta’s highest honour at a ceremony held at the Presidential Palace in Valletta. 

‘The honours are announced and presented each year on Republic Day to people who “distinguish themselves in different fields of endeavour”. Recipients can be appointed to one of four grades of the National Order of Merit, the republic’s highest form of recognition.

This year, two people were made Officers of the order and seven were appointed Members. 

Appointments are made following proposals by the Nominations Committee set up in accordance with the Ġieħ ir-Repubblika Act, and on the advice of the Prime Minister to the President.’ 

Republic Day honours 2024

Officer of the National Order of Merit – Prof. Charles Scerri

A neuroscientist and advocate for dementia care. Scerri obtained his doctorate at the University of Dundee and returned to Malta in 2004. 

He co-founded the Malta Dementia Society and played a major role in raising awareness about the condition and care for dementia patients. 

He chaired Malta’s National Dementia Strategy Group, authored the first national dementia strategy and has contributed to many international organisations focused on the conditions. 

Scerri lecturers in neuropharmacology and dementia studies at the University of Malta and has published extensively. He sits on the scientific advisory board of the EU Joint Programme in Neurodegenerative Disease Research and previously served as Vice-Chair of Alzheimer Europe. 

(Times of Malta)

I can hear the chirping of the birds in the trees. They are in the distance, but the sound fills every corner, every tree, every blade of grass, every petal, every drop of dew, that sits in the fields where I stand. I look around and all I can see are slope after slope of hills. Little villages are clustered in the valleys that dot the whole area around me. Birds of prey dance through the sky above, hovering and then diving for their prey. It is a wonder to see, a wonder to hear. I imagine the deer behind the trees, afraid to step out in case I see them, yet I know they are there. Cows and sheep graze in the distance. Horses gallop down the hill as they make their way to the stables. Farmers sit on their tractors working the fields. It is picture perfect. It is my happy place. Peace, silence, beauty. This is our world. This is the world I love to live in.  Far away from noise, danger, anger, fear. A world of kindness, welcoming hands, love, smiles and friendship.

Modern life bulldozes our dreams and demands our attention, our time, our whole day. Social media blinds us and robs us of the time we can spend in my painting above. Yet, we let ourselves be washed down this rapid river, this current, dragging us over sharp boulders, rough ground and the exit to the vast sea of nothing. An empty sea, where fish barely survive because of our selfish ways of existence. We try to grasp a branch to safety, but the velocity is too much, and we cannot hold back, we must let go. Or so we believe.

Yet, this gorgeous world remains. The quietness, the tranquillity, the stillness. They are there, inviting us, waiting for us. Our heart shuffles our feet towards, our soul yearns. Our mind pulls away. Why, why?

As I turn towards, I take another glimpse, maybe my last. My heart races with excitement as it is filled with the soft sound of chirping. And then, it starts to slip away. I know I am losing you, my happy place, my beautiful world. My feet will not turn, my body will not turn. Help me, please. I want to stay. Yet, the scene is disappearing, I am losing you, I can barely see you anymore…just one last try, one last push as I try to reach out. My arms do not move, my feet keep walking. I am losing, I am losing, I am trying…but you are gone. The last moment, the last glance. My eyes are totally clouded. I cannot see you anymore. I …I …have lost you.

As my feet keep walking, the grass turns to concrete and the chirping turns to noise, to the whirring of the engines, the blaring of horns, the shrills of voices, the clanging, clinking, screeching, and my head is thrown into shock.

And now I ask, what is the world of dementia. When a person sinks deep into this go to place, what does he see? And a person without dementia, what does he see? Are these worlds the same? Are they entangled into one? Are they pieces of a jigsaw? Are they a dense concoction of life’s experiences?

I really would like to think that a person with dementia walks up those slopes of green, of serenity and calm, of sheer wonder. I hope that their go to place is inside that photo that fills my memories and my life. My happy place, their happy place. I pray …and I hope.

This is surreal. I am floating somewhere in the air. I do not know where I am. I do not know what is happening. Yet, it is so beautiful here. There is silence, there is peace. The air is moving me gently through a stream high above, but I do not hear a sound. I feel so light, so calm, so free. I am detached from all that is below, far from the chaos, the noise, the voices, the screaming, screeching of tyres, fears, anger, tears, hatred…I am free.

I often wonder if that is how you felt in your dementia, if your life was a world so different to this one. Was it? How? Please explain. If it was, then I too want to be part of it. I too want to float in the air, away from this world. Take me with you and let me be part of this heaven on earth. Take me far from here so I can be with you.

We fear dementia so much. I fear dementia so much. Dementia took away the lives of my grandfather, his daughter, and my dearest mother. It gnawed at their memory, their consciousness, their recollection, their remembrance, and everything to do with the past, their whole life before today. Dementia consumed their brain and devoured their entire self without mercy. This is how our world sees it.

Was it so harsh? How did mum see it? Tell me mum?

I believe it hushed the commotion, the turbulence, the pandemonium, the turmoil and the madhouse we call our world. I believe it took you away to an orb we know nothing about. A place which is muted, muffled and quiet, a place where there is no tomorrow, where there is no yesterday, where you can hear a pin drop, a place with no expression, no communication, noiseless, a place to nowhere…no, a place to somewhere.

Explain it to me mum. I want to know more. I want to understand and see through that stare, that expressionless gaze. I want to know where you go. I want to feel and comprehend. Take me with you to this sanctuary, to this abode. Is it a hole in the darkness or is it a window to light?

Take me where you are going so, I too may see, and I may accompany you through this passage and direction you are headed for.

Let me understand so that I may quiet the fears of so many, of my own self. Let me realize that it is just a transition to the eternal life we call heaven. Let me believe that the end of life is but the beginning and what awaits us is incredible happiness, where there is no hunger, no ire, no hurt, no pain, no greed, no despair, no unease, no distress. Yes, take me there so I may see for myself.

Wow is it hot this week!

I think back to all our summers from as far as I can remember, till the last summer we spent together before you moved to a Care Home.

Up early to cook in order to get to Sliema by 9am was important to me, to my children and most of all, to you, Mum and Dad. Parking was always an issue near the Swimming club, but who cared!

The freshness, relief and total bliss of the sea was worth every imaginable sacrifice.  The sea is the best destresser in the world…as you let your body float and dip your hair in the cool water, all your troubles literally wash away.

As a child, I never wanted to leave the water. My children were exactly the same…and now my grandchildren too. You showed us the love of the sea, and we passed it on to the next generations.

We started our first summer in the sea and so did you Mum, Dad. The smiles, the happiness, the banter, laughter, we are truly blessed to have nature’s gift around us.

45 years being part of the swimming club was a big part of our lives and we had lots of friends to share this happiness with. And it was the last thing we did, hours before we took you to the Care Home. From swimming in the sea, to the main pool and then to the baby pool, it did not matter at all, as long as we saw and felt your happiness as you glided through the water when you could, and then stood up in shallow water when you couldn’t. You truly loved it, and it was and is one of the biggest obstacles that came in the way of your happiness when we could not take you anymore.

The Care Home had a pool but you weren’t allowed to swim when you became incontinent so that was short lived. You had to watch others until you just turned away in disappointment. It was no one’s fault of course, it is just the way your life snatched you away, slowly but surely.

As climate change makes summers much hotter, we do need to look after ourselves and our loved ones. However, we should never deprive others from this gift, either because we cannot make the time, or we do not feel like. I say to you, make the effort, for an effort it may be, but the reward is much greater. Do not deprive your loved ones of these moments of happiness because life has a way of taking them away before you know it.

Mum, your happiness, smiles and laughter are etched in my mind, and I think of you so much as I dip into the water of life. I hear your sounds of joy and feel your delight as you frolicked in the sea. My smile joins yours and the happy memories are a treasure to me today. 

What does it take to take your loved ones to enjoy the simple pleasures of life? We get so caught up in work, housework, shopping, of course we do. Yet, somehow, we forget that life is for living. When did it become a crime to leave the house undusted, or the shopping to be done on another day, or a work text unanswered after office hours?

Bring a smile to your loved one’s face…that is what matters most.

I have this vivid memory of a boy who was bullied at the swimming club where my family and I swam every summer. Every time he tried to swim, these boys would duck him repeatedly and stand on his shoulders as they pushed him under. He would come up to the surface gasping for air, only to be ducked again. This childhood memory appears in my thoughts every now and then, which is very upsetting. Please do not ask more details as to where the parents of all those children were or how long this lasted, as I do not remember. These unsettling incidents remain imprinted in a child’s mind, and you can only bury them but never forget them.

Very often, I type my questions on the computer to see what the internet says about them. Do we not all rely so much on this other ‘brain’? All too often, we ‘memorise’ what it says and believe it all, actually affecting the way we think for ourselves. This happens most especially when I have some ailment or other and want to know more. However, in this case, I will not be tempted. If bad thoughts come to mind, then I will just push them away and not dwell on them.

Yet bad thoughts do come to mind, especially when you look dementia in the face. You jump straight to tomorrow before facing today. We advise that you must be prepared and know what is coming, but you do have to live today and not tomorrow. Bottom line is we drown ourselves in thought.

In Maltese we have an expression that tells you to open your door wide when bad things happen concurrently. We tend to face several unfortunate experiences all at once…why?

Two years after my mother succumbed to her dementia, my father was really struggling with heart disease. He had several heart attacks before and after mum’s death yet the medication he was on really worked and was keeping him alive. In January 2015, I had a planned ankle operation that required a 3-month recovery at home. I went ahead with the operation, despite the circumstances as it was now or never for me. Dad was living with us by then, so I had company at home.  Unfortunately, a couple of weeks later, Dad was hospitalised, and the consultant told us that he didn’t have long to live. He kept him in hospital for a couple of weeks and Francis, my husband, used to visit him every morning, after he would have helped me get ready for the day. It was a very tough time for Francis as he had to work as well. One early morning, at 5.30am to be exact, Dad called us to say that he almost died. As he told me this, I was devastated. Stuck at home with this horrible plaster on my foot, unable to walk, unable to visit him, was very unpleasant. Dad was really upset and agitated so Francis got out of bed and went straight to the hospital. I rang the consultant later that day and he acknowledged what happened. Dad really was on the verge of death that morning. The Consultant asked if I would take him back home at the same time as I asked him to discharge him. I wanted Dad home to spend his last days with us, not stuck in a hospital bed all alone. Dad came home that afternoon.

During this whole time, my brothers were coming and going to Malta on a very regular basis. Martin from Australia and Anton from UK. When I say this whole time, I mean from before mum’s passing in 2012. A case of ‘so far yet so close’ to reverse the expression.

On hearing that Dad was really at the end, Anton booked a flight for him, his wife and daughter (Katie is a nurse) and came over. Katie and Anton spent the last few nights with him, taking it in turns to keep watch. I was just a couple of rooms away.

On the night of the 24^{th of} January, Francis got a telephone call from his mother that his father was rushed to hospital. He went straight to hospital while I settled to sleep. At 2am, the front door opened, and Anton walked into my room (he was staying at a hotel nearby while Katie was with Dad this particular night). He told me that it was all over, and Dad had gone. I was in shock but stumbled out of bed to be by his side. We turned on the lights and all just looked at him. As we were calling Martin in Australia to let him know, the front door opened again and Francis walked in from the hospital, only to find all the lights on and us around Dad. It was 2.15am on Saturday 25^th January 2014.

Although in these moments you want life to just stop, life is just relentless. As we arranged for the funeral, Francis visited his father, and the situation was under control. Dad was not buried straight away because we waited for Martin to come over. On Sunday, Francis was happy as his father seemed to be on the mend. As Dad was taken away from the flat, Francis’ mum moved in with us until his dad returned home. Fast forward to Monday 27^th January. Francis’ mum and I were sitting on the sofa watching TV when Francis called me from the hospital with shocking news. His Dad had died. What??? I looked at his mum and just could not believe what had just hit us, and what was coming to this most wonderful mother-in-law of mine. I said nothing to her and waited for the family to arrive. Francis, his brother and sister, stood in front of her and gave her the news. It was a very sad moment and a great shock to her.

So just two days after Dad died, Francis’ dad died too. Have you ever felt you were drowning? Well, we did that day.

Burying both our dads in the same week was not what we ever hoped for. Yes, life is relentless. Life makes you feel like you are drowning. Life throws everything at you at the same time. Why? I will not ask the internet why. I will just accept that this is life and yes, sometimes you feel like you are drowning. But …you know…somehow you climb back up…you come up to the surface..until the next ducking…is that fair? Is it fair that there is no cure for dementia? Is it fair that mum had to suffer? Is it fair? Never ask that question. Life is what it is. You must accept it.

A new life..a new baby has been born! What joy! Nothing can describe the feeling when you bond with your flesh and blood. Adopted..oh, so so special. When people adopt or foster children they have a place in heaven in my book. You are giving life to a child who has little in the world …that is pure happiness!

In the usual scenario, parents shower their children with their immense love for them and do their best to give them all they need, and all they themselves did not have. There are many sad cases, but I will not dwell on them here.

Let us think back to our childhood, from the days we can remember to now. There must be many memories you hold on to that give you that heartening feeling inside. The laughter, excitement, joy, elation, amusement, warmth, and most importantly, experiencing that feeling of safety.

When a child falls and hurts, he or she cries and runs to the mother or father’s arms..a scene we see so often, and which we should ponder over more and inhale the strong emotions of fear from one side and protection on the other. It is an intense moment.

Let us now reverse the situation.

A person with dementia suddenly finds himself/herself pushed into a room, 4 walls, a blank space. This room is white with no window and has one door. A door that cannot be opened from the inside. Yet, that door has a handle..and that handle can be turned by you. You? The spouse, sibling, relative, friend..whoever you are.

Let us talk about you. The ‘you’ who is so important to a person with dementia. You may not bother, have too much to do, are offended because the person with dementia does not recognise you, or you are the one who lives abroad and is remembered the least.

I ask you now to push all that aside. Cast those thoughts out, smash that armour around your hardened heart and let go. Remember your childhood and that love and protection you received and allow all those emotions to come flooding back. Release your heart and your soul from ill thoughts, from sadness, anger and all that is clouding your mind and heart. Pick up that photo album and go down a journey.

‘Hurry. Hurry’ I say to you. Do not waste another moment. Do not allow yourself to think anymore. Just go. Go to the place your mother, father, spouse, brother, sister, cousin, friend, is waiting. Yes, waiting just for you. Today may be your last opportunity.

Give that person all they need, all that you would wish for, and all that they gave you. Rekindle those memories of safety and protection in their arms by reaching out your hand this time. Give them the safety and protection that they gave you, and that they need so much now. ‘Inhale the strong emotions of fear from one side and protection on the other’. Put your head on their shoulders and shed your tears, cry with them, laugh with them. Reassure them, put your arms around them, even if you never did. Were you close to your father? Perhaps you never had any relationship with him. Now is a good time to start. Hold him tightly and let him feel the love emanating from your heart.

You may be thinking I am writing a romantic story, or some ridiculous scenario, one that is seen only in films. Well, to tell you the truth, I am not. I have experienced it myself and, you know, I hang on to that memory now and will always do so. It is what keeps me going. It is what gives me the solace, the energy to move on.

When a family member dies, we are, most often, left with emptiness. However, this emptiness can change to satisfaction, to relief, and most of all, to peace of mind. That peace that allows you to close your eyes at night and slip into beautiful memories of the life you had together. This is more precious than any money or possessions you may ever have. What are coins and notes when your house is empty, and your heart is barren? What is a beautiful house if it is not a home?

There is no shame in telling your parents or your children that you love them.

Think about what I am saying but do not think for long…just go. Turn that handle and fill that windowless room with light and love.