MARCH . . .
‘This too shall pass.’
Between the chats with Laurel & Hardy along with Mum’s neighbours I try to keep an eye on all at a distance & gradually make successful inroads into stopping my moaning & focus on all that is light & bright; to bring some joy to her day rather than constantly remind her that this or that isn’t good for her & make her feel worse than not speaking at all. Naturally this took a little while to get my head around, as I so desperately wanted her to be her true self – the true self I’d witnessed with my very own eyes during my stay – but it was clear she was regressing back to the confused, depressed & worthless lady I’d originally hugged way back in November last year. Sigh.
Mum is of the ‘everything is magnificent’ brigade when it comes to answering questions about how she is; always always always painting a picture of all being great – & if by chance it isn’t then it’ll be better very soon, ‘as this too will pass’. After a while, of course, you start to see straight through this & expose the rose coloured specs reply, but no point banging my head against a drum & asking Bob to keep her entertained, get to her exercise classes, eat healthily & drink plenty of water & no alcohol, as despite Mum saying what great ideas they are & she’ll definitely do that, alas it’s far more likely that she’ll simply put the phone down & pour herself another beer . . .
It’s Mum’s life after all, I cannot live it for her. Far from it.