Today is one of those days when my mind wonder how much or how little can we control our own lives?
To get there I must remind myself that it is tremendous hard and persistent work to become old, it definitely is not for 'sissies' . First you have to accept the gradual presence of the pillbox, then you must remember to drink the stupid things on time, if you forget you have to take them anyway and then suffer the horrible run for the toilet between 6pm to 9pm instead of between 2pm to 5pm! As if the meds are not enough you have to cope with the baths and showers that leave you as tired as a first born baby without a bottle, desperately helpless.
Oh, and what about the shoes? Here is a tip: park them at the right angle in front of you and then try to put them on by wriggling your feet in - sometimes that works.
When the night's hours get too long and your eyes are dry and itching from writing or reading too much, then you repack the dishwasher, or start baking 'biskuit'.
Yes, I know that does not always work.
Controling our own lives?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
I miss my Mary
It all started this morning when I checked for interesting blog stories - I found a blog of a desperate unhappy girl, and then my thoughts got hooked onto my little Mary.
Yes, I know she is almost 38 but in my eyes she will always be just my little Mary. I saw her last on the 17 of April 2007 when I said goodbye on my departure to Africa. You see she had to leave her country and made a new life in another because there is no future for her in her own. You ask me 'How come?' easy, in our country her skin is the wrong colour.
Now I am fortunate, I can still visit her sometimes, I show my grandchildren all the love and care I can so that I am more than a face in a photo, but I miss having my little Mary near when I go shopping, I miss having a glass of good red wine with her, I miss having her date me for a picture, I miss eating popcorn with her, I miss seeing her evolving into a very good carpenter and to hear the pride in her voice when she shows me her new kitchen cupboards, I miss hearing her side on politics, human behaviour and especially on how to bring up your kids! Oh, I know neither of us is always right, but it is so good to know that I like that little black-eyed, black-haired girl now that she is grown-up.
We did not have a good mother/daughter history when she was young, but as we both got older we succeeded in being more tolerant to each other, to understand what it means to love each other and to give each other more personal space without losing closeness.
She has her own kids now and is a good mother and in my opinion a good wife, but then she always says that I am biased because I like my son-in-law. That said I would just like her to phone me again in the middle of my day when she is having her morning coffee, or in the middle of my night when she is going to bed, just to say 'hallo' , then I would know that she is not making the same mistake that I made in thinking my mother would live forever, because I know that my time is limited.
I phoned her today, but only the ever present answering machine was there. So, this is for her, tell her I love her, Matilda is not a solace today.
Moeksie and Matilda's Mom
Yes, I know she is almost 38 but in my eyes she will always be just my little Mary. I saw her last on the 17 of April 2007 when I said goodbye on my departure to Africa. You see she had to leave her country and made a new life in another because there is no future for her in her own. You ask me 'How come?' easy, in our country her skin is the wrong colour.
Now I am fortunate, I can still visit her sometimes, I show my grandchildren all the love and care I can so that I am more than a face in a photo, but I miss having my little Mary near when I go shopping, I miss having a glass of good red wine with her, I miss having her date me for a picture, I miss eating popcorn with her, I miss seeing her evolving into a very good carpenter and to hear the pride in her voice when she shows me her new kitchen cupboards, I miss hearing her side on politics, human behaviour and especially on how to bring up your kids! Oh, I know neither of us is always right, but it is so good to know that I like that little black-eyed, black-haired girl now that she is grown-up.
We did not have a good mother/daughter history when she was young, but as we both got older we succeeded in being more tolerant to each other, to understand what it means to love each other and to give each other more personal space without losing closeness.
She has her own kids now and is a good mother and in my opinion a good wife, but then she always says that I am biased because I like my son-in-law. That said I would just like her to phone me again in the middle of my day when she is having her morning coffee, or in the middle of my night when she is going to bed, just to say 'hallo' , then I would know that she is not making the same mistake that I made in thinking my mother would live forever, because I know that my time is limited.
I phoned her today, but only the ever present answering machine was there. So, this is for her, tell her I love her, Matilda is not a solace today.
Moeksie and Matilda's Mom
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Matilda who?
Matilda the cat, my Matilda.
Matilda became part of me in the summer of 2002 when I had to learn to live with a almost useless heart after surviving three MI's in 24 hours. Before she came I felt so sorry for myself and lamented my limited functionality day and night. I felt that my husband of 38 years did not see or understand my physical or psychological suffering, that nobody understood that I want to be back in my own old, big house where dogs and cats and Elsie were part of my daily existence.
Instead they moved me to this small cramped granny-flat (not really, insofar as granny-flats go this one is a spacious four-roomed little house) in a seaside town. I missed the grass, the flowers, but above all I missed my painting room where I could hide from the world if needed.
So there I was in a strange house with a body that found bathing to be a punishment, washing hair became an insurmountable task, when just breathing was an effort and in walked this tiny five-week old little Siamese cat.
Matilda became my new lease on life, I could hold her and cry my desperate feeling in her scruffy fur, I had to remember that my husband and I had to eat when I fed her, she reminded me of the young ones in the family that could not understand their grandmother being so helpless and forever sad.
She followed me where ever I went and slowly but surely she helped me onto a healing path. She became a proud and beautiful feline but always caring. When I have a bad day I would find her highest offer, a dead veld mouse on my desk chair or on my side of the bed, or sometime when she has to get my attention a live one was dropped at my feet, without saying that brought me to life quickly.
It is now five and a half years later, and Matilda is in total control, she oozes love when she want to, she allows cuddling until she is fed-up, she definitely do not like kids very much, and when she is called she takes a message and answer you later. She reigns with tight control and she still brings me a mouse sometimes and she is still scared that a Skua might catch when she is outside. She still sits in my chair and whenever she gets a chance she still likes to sleep on my side of the bed.
I am sure that she can understand what I am saying to her, so, these days if I start to feel sorry for myself she turns her back on me.
Thanks Tilla!
Matilda's Mom
Matilda became part of me in the summer of 2002 when I had to learn to live with a almost useless heart after surviving three MI's in 24 hours. Before she came I felt so sorry for myself and lamented my limited functionality day and night. I felt that my husband of 38 years did not see or understand my physical or psychological suffering, that nobody understood that I want to be back in my own old, big house where dogs and cats and Elsie were part of my daily existence.
Instead they moved me to this small cramped granny-flat (not really, insofar as granny-flats go this one is a spacious four-roomed little house) in a seaside town. I missed the grass, the flowers, but above all I missed my painting room where I could hide from the world if needed.
So there I was in a strange house with a body that found bathing to be a punishment, washing hair became an insurmountable task, when just breathing was an effort and in walked this tiny five-week old little Siamese cat.
Matilda became my new lease on life, I could hold her and cry my desperate feeling in her scruffy fur, I had to remember that my husband and I had to eat when I fed her, she reminded me of the young ones in the family that could not understand their grandmother being so helpless and forever sad.
She followed me where ever I went and slowly but surely she helped me onto a healing path. She became a proud and beautiful feline but always caring. When I have a bad day I would find her highest offer, a dead veld mouse on my desk chair or on my side of the bed, or sometime when she has to get my attention a live one was dropped at my feet, without saying that brought me to life quickly.
It is now five and a half years later, and Matilda is in total control, she oozes love when she want to, she allows cuddling until she is fed-up, she definitely do not like kids very much, and when she is called she takes a message and answer you later. She reigns with tight control and she still brings me a mouse sometimes and she is still scared that a Skua might catch when she is outside. She still sits in my chair and whenever she gets a chance she still likes to sleep on my side of the bed.
I am sure that she can understand what I am saying to her, so, these days if I start to feel sorry for myself she turns her back on me.
Thanks Tilla!
Matilda's Mom
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