I wrote this in the spring, when they took my mother into respite care; we though she would never come back. It is a big step, when your mum leaves your dad after they have been married over 60 years; he couldn’t look after her, she couldn’t look after him.
She quietly took the bag of toiletries I quickly picked up from Boots, the small case of clothes, I packed. No fuss, no worries about possession or what would be useful, the goal was not to leave a noticeable gap, not to ask for help, not to be a hindrance. If I hadn’t invested so much in trying to make her happy I might not have felt so bereft.
No shouting out,
no screaming scenes.
I gave her soap,
and moisture
creams.
A weekend case,
her worldly all,
No custody;
No overhaul.
As moving on,
Each day arrives,
Away from us,
she casually thrives.
I’m not her mother,
She’s not mine now;
She’s free, and frail,
And faint
somehow?
And now, she is stronger, we hope she will come home for Christmas. It has been a year of surprises that we are now able to appreciate again.
ailsa wishes... 