The picture above is one painted by my husband and it reminds me so often of the importance to share our feelings, make that phone call, pay that visit now before it is too late.
Last week’s hospital visit with my much loved Father brought home to me yet again the inevitability of losing him. My Mother died when I was just 36, breast cancer treated her with cold indifference, resisting treatment and ravaging her body within a few short years. Although she was only 58 at the time she seemed to be to be slipping into old age but now I understand that that was the effects of the illness, all energy and vitality was drained from her at far too young an age. For her final year she had little interest in anyone or anything, just getting through each day was battle enough until she simply gave up and slipped into a semi coma, neither alive nor dead for many weeks before she died. My predominant emotion at the time was anger, rage at the illness that had so cruelly changed her and fury at her for giving up and losing the fight. I felt cheated that we had missed out on so many years of shared time, that my children had lost their Grandma and would never have the bond that I had been blessed to have with my Grandmother. So, between anger and fury I look back now and realise that I was too busy to grieve. I had a full time teaching job, two children to raise, a home to care for and I filled every hour with busyness. I thought of her often, brushed away the tears and hurried to another task until the memories became less difficult but I never really grieved.
The years have changed me though and I became aware a couple of years ago that I was already grieving in a sense as I accepted that I would have to say Goodbye to my father one day in the not too distant future but so often I would banish such thoughts with affirmations of his good health, lively mind, willing him to go on for ever. My second book, a short novella, was written to somehow deal with these thoughts, to help prepare myself for the inevitable and to some extent it worked. It was cathartic to write and many people have told me how much it helped them when facing the death of a parent. Should you be going through such a time do follow the link to ‘A Fearful, frightening Happening’; I would love to know your thoughts after reading it.
Dad has made a remarkable recovery from his surgery and for the moment his life goes on but the brush with mortality has reminded me yet again that none of us lives for ever and what is important is how we live and not for how long. There are no guarantees that I will outlive him, we simply don’t know but one thing I have learned from him is how much what we think, believe and do can affect not only our life but the lives of those around us. There is a responsibility that comes with maturity as we each become a role model for ageing. We can’t avoid the inevitable aches and pains , the need for spectacles or hearing aids, the joy of an afternoon nap, but we can hold on to our joy in life, a sense of fun and laughter, a curiosity in all things new and willingness to learn from our children and grandchildren. I have now become the conduit between the generations, making sure that my busy adult children find time to connect with their Grandad, that the great grandchildren spend time with this very special man so that they too will have memories of him, and equally sharing film clips and photos with Dad so that he sees the latest antics of the little ones, shares in their school plays and sports days and is able to take pleasure in knowing that they are happy and well even if it is at a distance.
Life today is so hectic and full, so busy and driven that a month, even a year can flash past in a blink and good intentions to spend time together have dropped to the bottom of the priority list. Sometimes we need a brush with mortality to help us focus again on what is truly important.