It is Mothering Sunday back home. And I wish all the moms in the U.K. the loveliest of days. My mom has been in heaven for well over twenty years now. I never got to spend much time with her after I was eight- due to family circumstances- but she impacted me greatly as one might imagine. She even got me my first typewriter when I was eleven. Today I am taking Winston to the nearby old folks home- something I am getting into the habit of. It was where my father was- before he was signed into my care and came home with me. Many of the same faces are still there- all these years later- and at least half of them rarely (if ever) get visits from family or loved ones. I watched Iris last night again. The brilliant movie about Iris Murdoch- the brilliant poet, philosopher and novelist who succumbed to Alzheimers Disease. Many of the scenes reminded me of my father. It is a wickedly cruel disease- and one we still know so little about. I always remember my father perpetually feeling he had to be somewhere- but was never sure where. Work he sometimes thought. I had to alarm all the doors in the house, and even padlocked the garden gate, as more than once , whilst I slept, he would manage to work his wheelchair out of the property, and be wheeling himself up the street. He used to think his wheelchair was his car. And the hardest reality to face is perhaps a selfish one. As that could so easily be in my future. But for today i will give Winston a good brush, put on a nice shirt, and a smile on my face and see if i can cheer a few folks up. After all what are we really all here for if not to take care of each other?
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 18:21:39 +0000
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