One of the biggest issues that has come to the fore over the last 18 months since my father died has been the situation myself and my siblings have found ourselves in with regard to our mother.It very quickly became apparent that aside from her obvious and expected grief my mother was suffering some significant memory issues and that they needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. Prior to his death I suspect my dad had been acting in part as her memory and whilst we were aware that she was getting a little forgetful, we really had no idea just how affected she was until she no longer had my dad for support.
During the period between then and now we have dealt with the medical aspects. Sometimes (actually most times) it has been something of an uphill struggle, both in dealing with 'the system' and in knowing how best to effect the necessary changes required. I don't think it's appropriate or fair to go into too much detail but suffice to say she can be pretty stubborn and frustrating when her back's against the wall... as I'm sure we can all be at times of difficulty. Knowing that however hasn't made it any less harrowing or stressful to deal with!
The single biggest issue has been her housing situation. For the last eighteen months she has been rattling around in what has been our family home for the last forty five years, like a very small ball bearing in a rather large biscuit tin and even had I been able to stay with her indefinitely, it is way too big a property for anything less than a family and not one were an octogenarian can reasonably be considered safe. Two flights of stairs, a massive garden, yada, yada.
And so, it is thus that last weekend, after much ado (we couldn't sell the house within the required period) we moved her into a beautiful,private, brand new, purpose built retirement apartment, closer to town, all high end mod cons and safe for her. She is perfectly able to cope day to day with living in the practical sense but emotionally we have yet to see what happens. It was her decision to move in as much as she felt that it was the 'wise' thing to do but leaving her home has been a whole lot less easy emotionally, as one might expect.
Time will tell but early indications are that it may be a long and somewhat pot-hole filled road to get to a point where we are happy that she is happy, or at least as happy as can be expected under the circumstances.
For me it feels like the end of an era, the home that was our family home since I was five years old, whilst we still own it temporarily, has gone in every sense that matters. It's just bricks and mortar now, empty of people, of family life, of the laughter and traumas of day to day life and of the warmth and feeling of safety my parents created there. Closing the door for the last time at the weekend felt like closing a door finally on that part of our lives.
So much has changed since my dad became ill but we will always have the memories.
