M died on Wednesday evening after five days in hospital following the sudden onset of illness. H and Daughter were with her. She was 95 years old. One of her friends said: 'If there is another place, she's probably already decided it isn't how she'd like it and not as good as W*****.' I wish she'd been happier at the end of her life, but I don't think we could have done more.
So now we have a fresh start. We're just getting used to the idea that we can both go out at once and even together if we like. We are very, very tired after nearly five years of constant caring responsibility. The house is cooler and very quiet and we inevitably have lots to sort out. Though her affairs were all in order, she had many friends, some as elderly as she, and they all need to be told. For many it will be a shock, as, apart from her arthritis and eye problems, she was quite well.
Today we both met Daughter, R and Grand-daughter at a restaurant for lunch - very puzzling for Grand-daughter who hasn't ever met Granny and Grandpa anywhere together except for their own house. Grandpa was especially regarded with suspicion and Daddy isn't usually there when Mummy and I meet Granny. We are looking forward to trips to the swings and other places with her which we haven't been able to do up until now.
We have learnt many things from five years as carers - about ourselves and what we can and can't do, about the NHS and the caring agencies and about how difficult a person can be and how that affects their life and that of those around them at many levels. The open-ended nature of such a situation grinds one down after a while - anyone can do something that has a finite end to look forward to, but to take on something that might last two months or two years or ten years is hard. Most of all we have learnt that we must seize the day. M spent a lot of time brooding over things undone or things she wished she had done differently. My family are not long-lived but whatever I do I don't want to spend an old-age in regret. Daughter has already offered a trip away in the New Year as a Christmas present: we shall certainly be going.
10 comments:
It must be so strange for you to be able to do what you like when you lie and together if you wish. You couldn't have done more for M and I think you were a saint so now it's your turn to have some me time. I should think a nice trip away together would just fit the bill. I wonder if M is busy telling the others wherever she is how she likes things?!!
Thank you, Jane. M will want to be in charge where ever she might be.
That's a lovely picture of light at the end of a tunnel. May it shine brightly for you all.
Sad in many ways but I do hope this brings a new lease of life for you. You certainly deserve it.
Such a time of change for you and your family. I wish you joy as you adjust to this new life. Don't try to carpe every diem - it will take time to let go of the responsibilities that you have had for so long.
A fresh start for you, so many possibilities and the holiday will be a way of coming to terms with your altered lives.
dear Jayne, I hope that in a situation that requires it, I would be able to find the fortitude and stoicism that has become your by-word for so many years.
You must be utterly exhausted now.
What a void she will leave, and, altho it sounds a tad disrespectful I do wish you joy in filling it.
Dear Bruce sends you the comforting soft-velvety-nose-wuffles that he reserves for Very Special People, and I send you love. . .and very much admiration.
xx
Well, how astonishing (in a way). I know when my mum died, after my caring for her to some extent for seven or eight years (not all in our house) I felt a huge hole. But then, she was on the whole lovely. I hope you enjoy your new freedom. You certainly deserve it.
It's quite disorientating when someone very alive dies. One thinks: hmm, does that actually mean that I'll die sometime too...? As you say, carpe diem.
How very unbalancing and strange this must all feel.
oh I'm so sorry... I didn't know... big hug.
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