A Lifetime Love of Little Boxes

Making Memories in a Box 

My family know that I never throw away a shoe box.  I use them to wrap up those difficult shaped gifts at birthdays and Christmas.  I keep all those tiny Sylvanian Family pieces in them, and I challenge any parent to deny that they have never needed a shoe box to complete that school project during half term holiday. 

Evidence of my shoe box collection can be found when you open the cupboard door of my craft room. There you will find floor to ceiling shoe boxes or similar shaped cardboard boxes full of keepsakes and photographs. Each box is carefully labelled and if I ever want a photograph to embarrass any family member then I know exactly where to find it.

Our loft is also full of boxes. These are mainly the square plastic type but they too all have a label, and they are all carefully organised. There’s one for Easter, One for Halloween, and several for Christmas! There’s a dressing up box, a box for all my hats and memory boxes for all my children. I’m sure you are getting the picture.

Just to be clear I don’t consider myself a hoarder just a keeper of the family memories that just happen to be in boxes!  Every so often I do go through the contents of the boxes and convince myself that there is no reason to keep every single birthday card I received when I was 16 or that painting that I did at school when I was 5 years old.  

I hope my children forgive me when the time comes for them to empty my loft because… guess what? Mum loved boxes too and there are no prizes for guessing where they are all kept now.

So, what is it about boxes? There’s something about a box that fascinates me. I see a box and I either want to buy it, paint it, play with it, or fill it full of stuff that apparently was special to me at some point in my life.

 A box just sets my imagination alight and for some reason fills me with joy and brings back lovely memories. We’ve all made a den from that big cardboard box and used a shoe box as a bed for a Barbie or an action man!

It seems that playing with a box is timeless. My dad used his dinky toy boxes to create a street when he was playing with his cars and just recently a huge box that once contained a fridge was a spaceship on Monday a boat on Tuesday and a place to hide the remote control on Wednesday!!

This week I have been looking through some of my boxes and I realised that once again fate has played its part in my life. If you've read any of my other blogs you will know that I am a big believer in fate or in coincidence, call it what you like.

On the morning that Harry was born, still and asleep, nearly 10 years ago my daughter Lauren was presented with a Memory Box from a charity we had never heard of called 4Louis. She has inherited my love of boxes  and she couldn’t wait to share her joy with me! Yes, the 4Louis box brought her joy at a time when her plans for the future had been shattered.

We opened the box together and we shared the love and attention that had gone into creating a box to make memories. Someone had been through a similar experience, and they had sent this box to help Lauren and her family get through the next few weeks.

She had something in which to keep her memories of Harry.  Although he never took a breath his box is full of memories of the day we met him and of the people he never got the chance to meet. There are photographs of his family. There are birthday cards, postcards, and poems. There are tiny baby clothes, wooden toys, and lots of stars. It’s not a sad box but a joyful box. A memory box for a little boy whom we only held for a moment but who changed our lives forever.

 
So, how apt is it that I am now a trustee of that charity. A charity that provides memory boxes for hospitals throughout the country to give to parents who have lost a child. A child whose memories will be days rather than years. I've been collecting boxes most of my life and I've always used them to store my memories. Now here I am working with a charity whose boxes give joy at a time when there is immeasurable sorrow. My love of boxes suddenly made sense.

Harry’s box sits with all the other boxes in my cupboard and a couple of times a year I get it out. October is Baby Loss Awareness Month so I will get out his box and remember the day he was born and the joy he brought to us all. I shall light a candle on 15^th October to remember Harry and all the other babies born still and asleep. I will be smiling and thanking him for introducing me to the 4Louis family and for confirming how a simple box can bring such joy.

 

Pebbles Pictures and Personal Messages

 

When Grief Returns

This week has been Mental Health Awareness Week so social media has been full of ways to manage our mental health. Now I have taken a step back from social media but someone sent me a personal message with a link to an interesting little article about grief.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/stories-43227108

It explained how in the beginning, grief takes over your life and fills every part of it. The loss you have suffered is there when you wake up and is still there when you go to bed.  Then as time passes it may seem that the grief has gone away. You don’t cry as much you start to make plans you start to think that that you have gotten over your loss. Then a song is played, a memory appears on your social media account or you visit a place with special memories and there it is, all that grief comes flooding back. It may be years down the line. The grief hasn’t gone away its always there, but our life has expanded around it.   

Harry was born on 15th May, but it is 12th May that hits Lauren every year. That is the day she discovered that Harry had no heartbeat. Every year that is when the grief hits her. As a mum I know that, and I too remember that day in every detail as if I am watching it back on an old video tape. That is the day she needs more support or to left alone with her grief.

Today is that Day

A private message from Lauren simply says

 “I’m OK. I’ll let you know if I need you. Love you.” Followed by a blue heart and a blue car. I burst into tears and for a moment all my grief comes flooding back.

For me it’s the memory of that day and how helpless I felt as a mother watching her daughter suffer such distress. It’s the unanswered questions and the agonising realisation that my grandson was not going home to his nursery but Lauren was. How does she cope with that? Moreover, how does she manage for 2 whole days knowing that when she returns to the delivery suite it will be to deliver a little boy who will not fulfil any of the plans they had made as a family.

I deal with my grief by putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard.

Every year I imagine Harry as a young lad and share all the experiences that we have enjoyed, and I imagine him being a part of it.

This year he would hit 9. He has 4 siblings and one cousin. We often wonder if any of those little people would be here if Harry had lived. Maybe that’s his legacy.

Harry is talked about. His picture is present in every family home, and he will always be Laurens eldest son. The next few days will be filled with grief and memories but there will also be family gathering balloons and quiet reflection.

I have just returned from a lovely couple of days with my sisters in a cabin on the Norfolk Broads. There was no TV and limited internet just a blue tooth speaker and good company. We played the songs of our childhood and danced like no one was looking! How appropriate that we should choose the first few days of Mental Health Awareness Week to be together and count our blessings. We have all suffered loss recently and we talked about our parents our pets and our friends. We remembered them all as we walked on the beach and made pictures from pebbles and seaweed!

 I’m pretty sure our kids think we are all a bit mad at the moment but one day I hope they too will enjoy the simple pleasures of a walk on the beach making pictures from rocks and spotting images in the sky when they are in their 60s!

    

Wheelchairs and Water Tablets

Tips for Travelling with an Ageing Parent

When I first suggested to my hubby that it would be nice to take Dad to Fuertaventura I’m not sure I was really thinking about the practicalities of getting him here. I was more focussed on the holiday rather than the journey. So for any of you thinking of venturing on an aeroplane with your ageing father  here are a few of the things I have learned.
First of all if your elderly father  is on water tablets it’s best not to take one on the morning of your journey. We travelled about an hour to East Midlands airport and stopped at every service station on the way. I had no idea there were 4 services stations and I also had no idea that nearly every disabled toilet needed a Radar key! In fact I had no idea what a Radar key was until this journey!

Apparently it’s a key you can buy that will unlock most disabled toilets. Well, being new to this disabled toilet stuff we don’t have a key. I soon discovered that the keys are kept at the coffee shop that you hurtle past on your rush to find the loo and that that coffee shop happens to be furthest away from the aforementioned toilet.

It is advisable to take your own wheelchair, you know the one that folds flat and fits in the boot.
Just be aware that that folding wheelchair takes up all the space in the boot and so you have to travel in the back seat with every other piece of luggage you are taking whilst your ageing father stretches out to enjoy the journey

                                                                                     ( in between toilet stops)
It’s also worth saying that after the third toilet stop and a father with a weak bladder the wheelchair needs to be sturdy enough to be thrown back in the boot with a certain amount of force as your patience may start wearing a bit thin!

Some of you may remember dad’s jacket. You know the one with the inside pocket that sticks every time he tries to unzip it! Well that jacket pocket now houses his money, his lip balm, his tooth picks and his handkerchief. Despite having several pockets he still uses the one that sticks and all of the above items are stored in that one pocket. 
Having used the facilities Dad needs to check he has all his belongings and refuses to sit in his wheelchair until he has checked that all of the aforementioned are safe in the pocket.
Imagine doing this 5 times after every toilet stop knowing that check in is getting very close to closing!

Talking of check in do not be fooled into thinking that priority check in and special assistance make checking in any easier or faster with Ryanair! Apart from rushing him to the loo half way through check in he was given a full body search as we passed through security and his wheelchair was scanned twice! 

I’m not sure his comment to the security guard assuring them he wasn’t carrying anything illegal helped!
Dad also carries a stick so I would recommend having some kind of attachment to the wrist for a stick as we had to go back to 3 toilets to retrieve his stick as he was too busy checking his bloody pocket!

Once through security you will have no time to browse the duty free or enjoy a beer as you will have to race to the gate so that you can be first on and last off a plane which may be delayed if your dad decides to use the on board facilities just before the plane is about to take off.

Whilst on the flight it may be worth quietly reminding your ageing father that you are travelling Ryanair economy so the wine will be warm and cheap and gently whisper in his ear that the young hostess is not fluent in the Barnsley accent and doesn’t understand his attempt at a chat up line.
“ Thas got a luvly pair o' legs lass”

You may need to practice that apologetic smile to the lady in front every time your father swings on her seat to help him get up out of his seat to use the facilities and 
 remind him to be patient as you wait for assistance to help us off the plane to a waiting wheelchair.
To say the journey was stressful would be an understatement. To say I have been on a huge learning curve is the most positive way I can describe getting here. 
I have a week to prepare for the journey home. I predict a couple more blogs and lots of alcohol along the way.
Wish me luck!

Old Friends and Photographs

Missing the Man in the Mirror 

My sister shared a photo of Dad recently and just commented, "Missing this man"

I smiled at the image and replied "Me too"

Its been a few weeks since we said our final goodbyes to Dad and although I have not shed tears every day I have missed him every day. 

When I retired 6 years ago, Dad became a huge part of my weekly routine. Monday we did his shopping and collected his prescription. Tuesday we organised a visit to the pub. Wednesday was cleaning and foot soaking day and Thursday was the sing a long at the local pub.. Friday he went for a pint with Uncle Colin and I ordered his taxi and Saturday was a day off with Sunday being a carvery or a meal out at another local pub.

In between there were hospital visits, chiropodist appointments and visits to the local barbers! I have a file full of Dad’s hospital appointments and another one full of his chequebooks. 

On Tuesday 24th August 2021 at 12.05am all that stopped!  

My routine would no longer include Dad and I hadn’t realised in that moment how much I was going to miss him.

We are all guilty of getting annoyed and frustrated at our elderly parents and I am no exception. Ironically it is those annoying little habits that I am now missing the most.

The way he tested the door 4 times after it was locked. The way he picked out the bits of strawberry in his strawberry trifle, the little whistle he made when he was getting bored with your conversation. His insistence on having Gammon Steak for a meal then spending the next 20 minutes using a toothpick to dislodge all those bits stuck in the gaps of his teeth! The way he washed his fingers rather than his hands and his fascination with the words on the beer mat. 

I miss the guy that placed beer mats over his pint pot, smiled at his reflection in the mirror and never went anywhere without lip balm and a toothpick. I miss the guy who never carried a wallet or paid for anything with loose change, instead he saved all his copper and silver coins in a box for when the grandkids went on holiday!

I miss the man who was always cold and hated flies. I miss cups of tea and crossword puzzles and reading the obituary page in the Barnsley Chronicle. 
I miss his selective hearing and his chat up lines. I miss his continual desire to get on an aeroplane and travel somewhere hot, not forgetting his need for the toilet just before getting on a plane, train or automobile.
I miss the guy who always stayed in the background supporting those he loved and cared about. I miss the guy who was a man of principle and strong opinions. This no doubt lost him some friends and most certainly lost him access to a few pubs in the village but it most definitely gained him respect amongst his work colleagues and his friends.

On the day of his funeral the church was full. This was an indication to me of how much he was loved and respected and how many other people were going to miss him.

 I had the privilege of  being  able to stand at the front of the church with my two sisters and read his eulogy. I called it Dad’s Dash or The Measure of the Man. The dash referred to the small dash on the headstone between birth and death. Although the dash is small it represents a whole life. As I was reading the eulogy I tried to take a mental picture of all those who had taken the time to come to church to remember Dad. 

There were old friends, relatives, carers, neighbours and drinking pals. 
But there were two guys sitting near the front of the church that I couldn't quite place. They followed us to the graveside and took one of the roses we offered and smiled as they placed the rose into the ground. I heard one of them say,
“There you go Gebber! See you on the other side!”
Later at the pub they came to find us holding three photographs of Dad as a young man. They were keen to add to Dad’s Dash! 

They introduced themselves as old friends and talked fondly of the young man they knew as “Gebber” A school friend and a work colleague. A guy who gave most of his wage to his mother but who saved up for a car and then took all his mates to the seaside for a day trip. They said he always said he wanted a big car and they were pleased to learn that he treated himself to a Bentley. They didn't realise he became a councillor or a JP but remarked that he was always someone who spoke his mind so it didn't surprise them.

They picked him out in the old photographs and they remembered the young man who played football for the youth club and who played the bugle in the boys brigade. 
They lost touch with him when he married mum. Apparently word on the street was that he’d met quite a catch with a ready-made family and they were sorry that they never met mum. Ironically they read the Barnsley Chronicle and that's how they had learned that he had died! They had come to the church together to remember their friend 50 yrs. after losing touch! 

That was the measure of the man. 
Once met…. always remembered and missed by many for lots of different reasons. 

We celebrated Dad’s birthday recently. He would have been 82. He wasn't with us in person but he was certainly with us in spirit. We went to his local pub. Drank his favourite beer and talked about him all night. We even read beer mats and took toothpicks!

Dad will be missed and I have no doubt that there will be many moments of sadness as we come to terms with our loss. However I also know that there will memories that make us laugh and most of those will include his quirky ways and his annoying little habits.
If you have an elderly relative or friend who is driving you mad with their quirky little ways, rest assured that in time those odd little habits will be the things that make you smile so treasure them and remember them and add them to your "Dash." 

Our Missing Piece

Seeing the Space or Appreciating the Picture

I once hid a small piece of my hubby’s jigsaw and watched for weeks as he put the pieces together. With just a few pieces left he slowly realised there was a piece missing. All that planning and sorting to create the perfect picture was ruined because of that one missing piece. 

He was annoyed, angry, upset, frustrated. All of those emotions, all at the same time. So I encouraged him to go to make a drink and to come back to the jigsaw later. Meanwhile I placed my hidden piece where it belonged. 

When he returned and the jigsaw was complete all those emotions were replaced with a feeling of fulfilment, pride and relief. His picture was complete and he felt good. Of course he wasn't best pleased with me but that soon passed!

Imagine if that missing piece was a family member who was always going to be missing. I don't think you ever stop looking for the missing piece because the picture just isn’t the same without it.

It got me thinking that maybe, how you view a jigsaw with a missing piece, is a bit like how you cope with loss. At first that missing piece is so huge and so noticeable that the picture becomes a blur and all you see is the gap. Over time that piece may not be as noticeable and you begin to look at the picture you have created despite there being a gap and you begin to appreciate its beauty.

This is how I see grief. Some days it seems that the picture you have created without the piece is ok but then other days the space in the picture is so noticeable and so huge that you can see nothing but the void. 

Our grandson Harry is our missing jigsaw piece. 8 years ago he was born still and asleep and this weekend we will be celebrating his birthday. At this time of year the missing piece in our family jigsaw is much more apparent.

There I am, living my life enjoying the small pleasures and feeling blessed then, WHAM, that missing piece just stares me in the face and my anger and frustration at losing that important part of my jigsaw rise to the surface again.

As we approach Harry’s birthday I find myself distracted as I entertain my grandkids at the local park. For some reason the park seemed full of young lads who could have been Harry’s age. Which one would Harry choose as a friend? 

Would it be the young lad playing football or the one on the zip wire? Would he be happy to build sandcastles in the sandpit with his younger siblings or would he be hooked up on some electronic game on his mobile phone?

Or is he still that little lad I met 8 years ago snuggled up in the pushchair wearing his stripey blue hat with his blue kangaroo?

Harry changed the way our family jigsaw looked. One of my hobbies is creating collages from photographs. Sometimes when I am putting together a collection of family photographs there is a space that just needs filling but none of my photographs fit. That's where I place an image of a robin or a rainbow and hey presto the picture looks complete. It’s my attempt to fill the gap and complete the jigsaw and include all of my grandchildren.

A very dear friend recently painted me a picture from a photograph I had taken of my grandchildren. She knows from experience that no matter how beautiful and well composed the image there is always a gap where your loved one should be.  She managed to fill that gap in my photograph by including Harry’s little blue car tucked inside his cousin’s pocket. Only someone who has a missing piece of his or her family Jigsaw could do something so special. 

4Louis have taken the idea of a jigsaw and created a corridor full of jigsaw pieces Every piece on their wall is a missing piece in someone’s family and those families are all connected by 4Louis. We are all connected by love and loss. Harry is up there and I thank 4Louis for finding a place for our missing piece on their wall of remembrance. He fits in perfectly.

So the next time you are doing a jigsaw and you find there is a piece missing try to focus on the big picture rather than the space. Be assured that the missing piece is somewhere close and you will find it in a place you never expect at a time you weren’t expecting. The feather that falls, the song that plays, the bird that sings. Gentle reminders that its ok to notice the space and be sad but also a little signal to appreciate the other 999 pieces of your jigsaw which in fact have created a beautiful image.

Happy Birthday Harry. 

15 05 2013

Cowboy Hats and Wedding Hats.

 Why Hats Make Me Happy!

Hats have always been a part of my life. I suppose they represent all the happy memories I have as a child and into adulthood. They make me smile. I have hundreds of photographs and the one’s where I’m wearing a hat, bring back such happy memories.

It started with a cowboy hat. I was a bit of a tomboy and on a holiday at Beacholme in Cleethorpes my Uncle Bri bought a cowboy hat and I wore it all week. Uncle Bri never saw it again!

Then there was the Easter Bonnet parade at the local working men’s club. We spent days making our bonnets before parading them in front of all the adults on a Sunday afternoon.

Whitsuntide and the Whit Sunday Walk always involved a new hat and Christmas was all about party hats and funny hats. 

Family weddings were huge hat occasions.  They were more about the hat than the outfit. 

So it seems that hats are in my blood! They take me to my happy place.

Mum had a collection of wedding hats. She bought a new one for every family wedding and I had 18 cousins so there were lots of weddings! Mum  never gave them away and a couple of years after she died we found them and organised  a photoshoot. Once again hats were making me smile.

I could mention that my favourite book is “The Cat in the Hat” and that as a teenager one of the first albums I bought was “Stardust” by David Essex and I played Hats off to Larry by Del Shannon on repeat for months much to the dismay of my older sister who was into Bay City Rollers!

Into adulthood I have a fascination with hats. I have a habit of taking random pictures of complete strangers wearing funny hats and I can’t resist trying on every hat in the local vintage charity shop. My friends and family cringe when we go near a hat shop because not only do I insist on trying them all on I make them join in too.

I even took dozens of hats on a day trip to Ilkley just in case we got the chance to sing that old classic “On Ilkley Moor Bart Hat”

I had no idea growing up that my love of hats would one day lead me the Brain Tumour Charity and “Wear a Hat Day” I had no idea that my growing collection of hats would support my good friends who tragically lost their son to a brain tumour in 2018. He was 28 years old. He was the same age as my daughter and he had his whole life ahead of him.

Now I have never lost a child but I have spoken to mums who have lost children. I have listened as mums talk of losing their baby in early pregnancy and mums who deliver their baby still and asleep. One of the things that upsets them more than anything is that they never got the chance to see them grow up. 

Well Imagine losing your child at 28.  You have seen them grow up. You have kept them safe as a child and watched proudly as they grow into young adults. They leave university with honours, pass their driving test, travel the world. You stand back with pride as they begin to make plans to settle down and buy their own home and maybe one day have a family. 

Then cancer strikes and it is not only your hopes and dreams as a mum that are shattered but also those of your son! For me that is a double loss! 

I am blessed. I have not had to endure this pain but I have friends who have. I have listened as they have tried to explain their grief and there is no explanation. They are angry as well as upset but the only thing they can do is raise awareness and funds to support other families who have to deal with the horrors that a brain tumour brings. 

Supporting “Wear a Hat Day” is my way of supporting my friends as well as my reason for keeping all my hats!

My mum always reckoned that some things happen for a reason. Well I have no idea what reason there could ever be to lose a child but it seems that the reason I have always loved hats is to bring a smile to those close to me when they need it the most. Thanks mum for your wisdom and for love of hats which I have obviously inherited from you and my nan.

A Limited Lifestyle

The Man in the Mirror

I dug out my old journals recently in response to a comment that a friend made about my dad. He is often a topic of conversation and all my friends ask how he's doing especially during lockdown.

My usual response is,

“He’s doing ok” followed by “He’s just old and frail”  

On this particular occasion my friend commented that Id been saying that for years and we started talking about how old age creeps up on you.So when I got home I started looking back through my journals to help me pinpoint when exactly did my dad become old and frail. It occurred to me that I was in danger of forgetting the man my Dad was and he would be remembered as an old and frail guy rather than a man who was once quite popular and occasionally funny!

10 years ago Dad was a relatively healthy 70 year old. He was also someone with some authority.  He was a local councillor, a JP and being an official at the pit he was well respected in the community. Then he had a stroke. Within a year he had recovered but by the end of that year he had lost my mum. His life had changed but Dad carried on refusing to let his stroke and his loneliness deter his plans. He loved travelling and he loved cars. So he travelled to Belgium and America every year to visit my sisters and at 75 he bought himself a Bentley just because he could! 

I still hadn't figured out at what point Dad had become old and frail. After his stroke he started using a stick but we always reckoned it was for the sympathy vote rather than to help with his balance.  The more I looked the more I realised that its only in the last 5 yrs that dad has gotten old! That said Dad has never really accepted old age. He doesn't see himself as old even though he knows he is. 

Even after breaking his leg in 2016 and his arm in 2019 he has refused to succumb to my description of being old and frail. He still asks young ladies for their phone number and every time he sees himself in the mirror he giggles as if he thinks his reflection an optical illusion. 

Every obstacle that is thrown in his way he has taken head on and never changed his lifestyle or his determination to continue. 

• His sight deteriorated but he refused to stop driving until his license was taken away. 

• He broke his leg and his mobility deteriorated but he still found a way to visit the pub for a few pints of John Smiths. 

• He broke his arm but he learned to manoeuvre a walking frame into a taxi and found a new pub that looked after him.

I am guilty of being frustrated with him at not accepting his limitations. He never stops talking about getting on an aeroplane again and he wants us all to go away on a family holiday. He has worked out that he probably can’t travel alone anymore so if we book a family holiday he can still get on that aeroplane! He may be old and frail but he still has all his marbles!

Living with Covid over the last 10 months has given me a bit of an insight into the frustration of living with limitations. Just as I am trying to find ways of overcoming the limitations of Covid, dad is trying to find ways of overcoming the limitations of old age. 

Covid is limiting my travel.  Covid is limiting my social life. Covid is limiting my lifestyle but it is old age that is limiting all of these for my dad.

Covid will eventually pass and all being well my lifestyle will improve and I will be able to travel and mix and not be restricted. For dad, when Covid eases his life will be just as restricted. Imagine that! A lifetime of Covid restrictions!

There’s no wonder dad keeps planning. If I thought that I would never get on an aeroplane again or enjoy the company of my friends and family and be confined to my own four walls I think I would be a little sad and more than a little frustrated.

Thing is, dad smiles a lot he doesn’t seem sad or angry He doesn't complain too much and he is very compliant. He is reluctant to talk about the “old days” and he chooses to sit quietly and read the paper. 

The people who meet him today see an old guy who struggles to walk. They know very little of the life he has experienced because he chooses not to talk about it. If they had met him 10yrs ago they would have seen a very different guy. The same guy that dad sees in the mirror. On occasion he can be persuaded to remember past holidays and there are glimpses of the husband and father who loved to travel. You see Dad still has places he wants to go and people he wants to see. He doesn't want to talk about the adventures he has had, he wants to experience new ones. So he keeps planning!

Just recently dad fell and fractured his arm again. He spent a couple of weeks in hospital and even though we thought it would be better for Dad if he left hospital to go into a respite care home he had other ideas.

"Those places are for old people." he told me. "And they don't serve John Smiths!" How could I argue with that!

He is home now and rarely leaves his chair. He may need help getting dressed and support as he walks to the toilet but he is in no doubt that he is independent enough to stay in his own home. At first we were a little bit angry with his refusal of full time care. We couldn't understand why he wouldn't want a cooked breakfast every morning. Why the lure of a home cooked meal at lunch time and as many cups of tea with biscuits as he wanted just wasn't appealing to him. He couldn't explain to us either he just kept saying "I'd sooner stop here"

He's been home a week now and I have visited him most days. I sit with  him and watch him smile as the neighbours walk by. He studies the TV pages and he circles the programmes he wants to enjoy on TV. Most days I help him with the crossword.

It was as I was helping him with the crossword that I had one of those lightbulb moments. I suddenly understood his reluctance to enjoy the comforts of a respite care home. The clue was "Place for elderly people to go for rest" (6,7) Quick as a flash he said "Canary Islands" 

There was the guy that dad saw in the mirror. The traveller , the driver, the regular at the local pub. He does not see a man who will play cards or dominoes with a group of elderly people. He does not see a man who would have a go at armchair aerobics or arts and crafts whilst drinking cups of tea. The man he sees will always be capable of  getting on an aeroplane  and will always look forward to the day he can enjoy a pint of John Smiths.

I laugh at his answer to the crossword clue and ask

"Does it fit Dad?" 

"We'll make it fit, have we?" was his very clever reply!

Dad is learning to live with his limitations but he will never accept them any more than we can accept that the Covid restrictions are here to stay! Maybe thats not such a bad way of looking at both Covid and Old age it can only restrict you if you let it!

You may be wondering about the crossword clue. Well I figured it out. The answer was "Senior Respite". If Dad had agreed to the correct answer then the rest of the crossword would have been a whole lot easier. But as you may have gathered Dad is not really bothered about making things easy whether it seems like the perfect fit or not. So we left it blank for Dad to think about another day.  

 Theres a message in that somewhere!