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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

I was waiting for the imminent disaster to fall on me, or us, not quite knowing what it was and thus unable to prepare myself for it. I suspected what it was, prayed it wasn’t and waited.

Time passed and things limped along, until the day arrived when Mum had to be admitted to hospital.  I can’t even begin to say why I knew this was different. The energies around Mum seemed thick and Dad’s presence was so strong. As she always had done in the past she rallied and the hospital were almost ready to let her come home – but only after we had made an appointment to see the doctors!

image from www.the guardian.com

image from http://www.the guardian.com

It really didn’t take Einstein to work out what was going to happen. We were told very simply that Mum had finally reached the terminal stage and that because of her condition she could only go home if they (the hospital) could be assured that she would have someone with her 24 hours a day. In less than a heartbeat I discounted my business, it wasn’t important, and told them I could look after her during the days. My brother, who hated living alone and had moved home before Dad died would be there in the evenings and nights. Even though he was at home, they looked to me to settle the matter.  It was my responsibility and I told them we could manage it. I was the eldest, it was what I did.

It goes almost without saying that my children were right behind me, it was their Grandma after all. It hurt to have to tell them the bad news, but I think we were all expecting it one day, we had simply hoped it wouldn’t be soon. I say soon, we had been prepared for years but when the time arrives it is always too soon. . I thought my hubby was also “on board”. They had gotten along well in the past and being embarrassed that things weren’t great at home I hadn’t talked to Mum about it. Since I was basically supporting him, and had been all along I really didn’t expect any hassles.

Is it ironic that I truly enjoyed the months I spent alone with Mum each day? When I could see how things were and had been happening every day, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done something to correct it. I didn’t like how Mum had been looked after as she became more fail. I didn’t like the fact that I was so preoccupied with my woes that I hadn’t seen what was happening when I visited. I hadn’t visited enough! So, without telling my brother I started spoiling her. I bought her things which would tempt her to eat, treats to make her smile, little gifts she wanted but he disapproved of. What he didn’t know wasn’t going to cause a problem and I wasn’t seeking a pat on the back for loving my mother.

If I could have given her my lungs for her to breathe instead of the horrible asthma attacks compounded with the emphysema – I would have. I couldn’t do any of those things. I could send her healing to ease things, so my Reiki training was very useful. I could help her through the attacks but I couldn’t stop them and I knew time was running out. She loved watching that crazy soap, “Days of Our Lives” and each time I saw that hourglass and heard the theme…..”like sands through the hourglass” I had to bite my lip to stop tears.  I bathed her and washed her hair, bought new nighties to brighten her days and a lead light lamp which caused a furor.

I didn’t broadcast what I considered small things to help her through the dark days. I loved her and it was irrelevant that I tell anyone what ‘a wonderful daughter I was’. It’s strange how people perceive things later.

We talked a lot about “afterwards” and I explained to her all I knew and believed. Dad’s scent was so strong in the house and she admitted she could feel him. She was frightened that there may not be anything afterwards, and I fear it was one of the reasons she clung on for so long, but our talk brought some measure of comfort and I could feel her accept that there may be more for her than she had feared.

A month before Christmas I arrived home after a difficult day of asthma attacks to be welcomed by this statement. Hubby, “This isn’t working out. I’ll be moving out on Friday. I’ll take my things when I’ve worked out where I’m going.”  For one second I was dumbfounded and then I blazed like a volcano erupting. I know my voice was like ice, as though I had killed something inside.

I remember saying, “Don’t think about waiting until then. I’m not leaving you in my house alone until Friday. Pack your bags and get out now. You can call to talk about the rest on Saturday. Now – GO!”

With a frosty glare he opened his mouth and I said, “Don’t think about it, If you don’t leave now my son will put you out.” (My son is a big man and was capable of doing just that, in fact he would have loved it. Which shows the level of discontent still in the house).

image from footage.shutterstock.com –

He left, I had too much on my mind at that time to worry about it. I was advised by my insurance company that if I wanted to be covered in the event of ‘things’ being missed later, I had to have the locks changed. He came back when the locksmith was changing the locks. Such was the animosity in hubby’s face that he, the locksmith, was reluctant to leave. Truthfully, I think I would have welcomed him trying anything. It would have been a distraction. I was becoming numb and anything would have been a welcome distraction.

But, the end was fast approaching.

Losing myself.

Losing myself.

Each day I felt I was losing myself. I had no one to talk to, I had to remain strong for everyone and yet I felt the cracks widening more and more.

.

Next week – Losing my way

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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