Life, in all it's glory

        Sometimes, you feel your mortality more than others. I think the time when your Mother is coming to the end of her life, is one of those times. I have reached such a spot. It's quite strange, these things seldom effect you as you think. I thought I was ready for it, strong and fatalistic enough to know its for the best. The best for her, I mean, that it's her time. It comes to us all, perhaps that's where the sudden feelings of mortality comes in, as I'm next in line. Of course it is inevitable, apart from the possibility of her turning back the clock and having her old energy and life back, it is for the best. We all know that....don't we?

         Over recent years I have seen so many go. All of my old aunties, and uncles, except one, have gone. Leaving me with an abundance of mainly happy memories of the years before. When I, and they, were young. Memories of my maternal Grandparents old country house, with the stream running around part of it. A place that drew all of our large family back to it constantly. To the big Sunday gatherings, the Victorian Polished table seating 20 comfortable, and usually many more. Its top groaning with good farm grown, home cooked food, as in 'Last of the Summer Wine'. Year after year of Summer afternoons spent flying kites, and model airplanes in the meadow behind the house, beyond the old Oak tree. Or playing cricket, in the days when I understood the rules. Sometimes my brother and I, trying to float rafts on the pond. Or playing cards during winter nights, a penny in, a penny on.... gambling at its best. The old uncles sitting next to kids like me, who assumed I was as smart as they. Ahh utopia, except perhaps for my Grandmother organising and preparing everything without benifit of modern gas, electric or even running water.

        That life disappeared once they were gone, as happens with every generation I suppose. As it will with this latest link in the chain. My grandparents went many years ago, my dearly loved grandmother at close to a hundred, after living a further thirty five years longer than her husband. A wonderful woman, always without complaint, and always there. In the way that women were in those days, when their life was the family and the kitchen. I know it was a place I loved to be, especially having been born there, in her house. I never doubted I belonged. She fed me, made a refuge of her place for me, most importantly, she was always there. Where else would she be? Ahh the selfishness of children. 

        I still remember everything, I still think of her. Unflappable, calm, solid and reliable, with the softest skin. Not surprising as I spent the majority of my formative years living with her. I could go on about her for hours, but this is about my Mother. Or, perhaps not, it's about the generations, how we come and go. How her time to leave is here, and mine is inexorably moving one step closer. That's the bit that caught me out, me, even considering the next step. Perhaps it's because I see her in a state where things are getting out of control. With the sudden rapid degeneration of her mind and body dictating changes no one is ready for. Can you ever be ready? It's so out of my control too. Especially with me over in England, and she in New Zealand. Decisions I can help with, practicalities hardly at all, except to support my brother and his family as best I can.

         We thought she was on her last legs nine/ten months ago. I rushed over there, thinking 'this is it', then of course it wasn't. Miraculously, she recovered, bouncing back to better health than before. With great relief we all celebrated her 90th birthday, which really, she did not enjoy. It left us all feeling rather deflated, but at least we tried. Not that she was ever much for celebrations, or parties I suppose. My Father went at not much over seventy, nearly 20 years ago, come August. I think about him almost daily, I know he is close, I feel him. Sometimes, feeling he is busy putting his old, favourite sayings in my mouth. It's quite funny, comforting, if I'm honest. To hear those familiar words popping out without thought. No doubt, I'll be the same with Mother. However, she being such a different character, it can't work in quite the same way. 

          My Mother lost any spiritual faith she had when my brother died at 47. A mere two years before my Father. I think the hardest thing for me is to know she believes there is nothing after death, only darkness. Faith is not something you can give someone, I wish I could. I wish I could convince her she will see her son again, it might help her let go. It could give her peace, some trust in what comes next. As come it must, whatever any of us feel about it. I don't want her to be afraid.

          So here we are, faced with the inevitable, the unplanable. I for one, am glad there is no euthanasia in this country. How would a family cope knowing their loved one had decided to leave them early. Had chooses  to cut short their time together. No matter how pure the motive behind it. At least we will all know it was 'her time', not something picked out of a hat. All we can hope is that we all act with as much dignity and love as we can. That she too can end her life as she wishes, in her own home, cared for.

            Tonight, my thoughts are with all of you out there, going through similar situations. As my thoughts are with my Mother, my younger brother and his family. I send you all love, strength and wisdom. May your God be with you, helping you, and us, through this difficult time.

             Peace and love to you all......