Reflections

A lot has happened since I last shared my rambling thoughts with you. 

Dad left us before I got back from my travels; I didn't get back in time to see him, but my thoughtful sister held the phone while I said my goodbyes. Hospital and infections had changed him physically and mentally to a degree that I'm happy not to have witnessed. Selfish, I know, but I sat with my mum as she died, and that image is the one I recollect most often. I need to blink it back and actively recall her lovely face in happier, healthier times. So I'm happy to have kept my last visit to Dad as my default memory when I think of him. As the youngest child in my family, I have been so fortunate to have both parents in my life until 55, and Dad to 60. And not just in my life, but a big part. Never having moved away from the town of my birth has its advantages, connection with family being a major one. 

The day after arriving back I also had the harrowing task of taking Claire's beloved cat, Raven, to the vet. She had an aggressive cancer of the tongue, sadly common in cats, and was becoming unable to eat. I'm not sure how vets cope with the raw, messy grief of people that sign away their pets' lives. Euthanasia was the kinder option, the other being slow starvation, but it never gets easier to cope with. She has been laid to rest in our garden, along with all the other pets from the last 30 years. There's only room for one more, Bella will be the last.

Dad's funeral had more attendees than Raven's, although he had outlived many of his friends and family. His funeral and burial were at Hope Mansel Church, where he is in the company of many of those he loved. It was a service with a good sprinkling of humour, and his personality shone through. I'm not sure what the vicar thought, but I could feel Dad's approval. 

Lily turned 8 in the midst of all this drama, and there was the wild disco party and separate birthday celebrations to be had. Our house was a hive of frantic activity for about 3 weeks solid. We had several sets of visitors, overnight guests, play dates, it was all going on. So the day after the funeral Paul and I escaped in the motorhome to a sloping field on the Gower peninsula. We had only sheep and goats for company, and a view of the sea, well Bristol channel. Lots of walking, a 37 mile cycle tour and a bus trip to Swansea later I was restored and able to resume daily life. Sometimes you just need a reset. I've been cramming in as much yoga as possible too, so good for clearing the mind.

There was an event this week that we thought would never happen. Paul, Helen's dad, came to Friday morning yoga. He was finally worn down by my nagging. Although he did well, and I can tell he enjoyed most of it, I'm not sure he'll come again. Especially after Helen, hoping to encourage him, said she was surprised how flexible and strong he is. Now he thinks he doesn't need it! He really does. I'm only looking after my investment, I've spent 41 years doing my best to keep him alive and healthy so that we can enjoy a long, active retirement. I shall continue to encourage (nag) and see what I can do... If I manage, and you encounter him at a class, please bear in mind that he is extremely deaf. Not just rude. Hopefully we'll both see you there.