Walking along the beach early one morning this week, as I do, it hit me that I was about to lose both my mother and father in law. That word ‘lose’ was like a knife to my gut. I couldn’t bear it – it sounded too much like I had failed in some way, that I’d had some control in the matter and let things slip. So I decided to use ‘let go’ instead. My mum is still too young at 76, but Phillip is 87, and both have served their purpose in life, or close to, at least, surely? Yes, in their own ways they have. So it’s now a matter of me, of us, letting them go when they are ready.
Over the years I’d been told that you get to a certain age, and your parents move from looking after you to needing to be looked after by you. It always seemed so unreal. Before. Mum’s tumour journey (we don’t use the C word) has been going on for years, but we’ve only officially known about it for, hmm, almost 3 years now. A journey through chemo (a painful waste of time and life in Mum’s case), radiation, meditation, visualisations, despair and hope.
Early December last year things got worse, and my parents decided enough was enough, and Mum went into pallative care. She was ready to die, we all said our goodbyes – well, I assume the others did, no one has talked about that – normal for our family, but I certainly said what I wanted and needed to, asked the questions I needed answers to, and made my peace. But she resurrected, changed her mind, determined then to start eating and walking again. On Sunday, a rush back into hospital with savage break through pain, more morphine. Over the phone I dictated the dedication out of my unpublished book to Dad so he could read it to Mum the next day when she came to. But today she’s home again, not quite making sense, the extra drugs running the show.
What a roller coaster – no, it’s actually more like being on the high seas, riding the waves up and down, and every so often there’s that rouge huge wave that could swamp my boat if I wasn’t careful. It’s all reinforced how important it is to look after your own ship, and allow other to sail their ship their way. Of course share knowledge, expertise when appropriate, or asked for, but otherwise, just ride the waves, keeping company, ready to throw a life-buoy when needed. If your ship isn’t well maintained, you won’t be able to help when it is needed most. And it is the ones left behind, like my dad will be, that will need your stability most.
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