Visiting Mum

I could hardly keep my eyes open as Sam woke me before he left for work to say goodbye, as he does every morning. He tucked the doona in all around me asking if I was warm.

“Can’t have you getting cold,” he said.

Kiss kiss.

I was so lovely and toasty and warm, but I was awake after that.

I came downstairs and had a cigarette (yes, still,  head hung in shame) and sat outside on the doormat and called Buddy out of his kennel, but he wouldn’t come. It was ice cold this morning and no matter how I tried I couldn’t coax him out of his house, he wouldn't come. He was buried deep down in his layers of bedding, with big eyes gazing back at me as I looked in.

9am. I thought about going and seeing my mum. I haven't seen her for a couple of weeks. I should, I thought. No, I really should, I told myself when it just seemed too hard.

Buddy wandered in at around 9.45. Not an early riser is our bulldog. I have been wanting to take him to visit my mum, but I just don't know if he would be calm enough for that.

The internet stopped working fairly early into the morning. Bugger! I've been copying my Bette Midler cds into itunes for the last day, but without the internet, it doesn't work properly, it can't get the track listings or something. Maybe the universe was telling me to get off my arse and go see my mum, I thought, again. Actually, I have just changed internet providers and it was clear that the change over had finally happened. 10 to 20 days they said the change over would take. I have no idea why that is in this age of instant change.

So, I headed off to visit mum. She was quite good today, chatty, alert and able to ask questions. We sat out in the garden in the sun. Of course, I did most of the talking. I stayed longer than I intended, into her lunch time. So I fed her her lunch, so as to let the staff attend to the others. I’m sure I could smell baby food as I spooned her food into her mouth. I kid you not, it was kind of nice. I have vague memories about her feeding me as a small child; vague memories, just snippets, rather than complete memories. The smells, the feeling, fleeting though, I’m not really able to grab onto them completely.

I feel a kind of sadness about my parents that I don't feel about anything else. (I have tears in my eyes just writing that) I fought back tears a couple of times as I fed her, looking at her, a woman who was once so full of life, who studied at university, who travelled the world.

The other day, I was talking to someone about my dad, and the tears welled in my eyes, so easily. My dad was a great guy, the only man who will ever really love me unconditionally.

There is a deep sadness I feel about the two of them. I realise that they hold a place in my heart that nobody else can ever occupy...
...and when they are gone, there is an emptiness that nobody else can ever fill.

I guess that sounds obvious, but I feel it now.

At least Lottie seems to be happy and cheerful and is not the one grunting, or talking to herself, or scratching, or catatonic, or calling out constantly, or finger painting with her shit.

It is, of course, nice that she still knows who I am when I say hello. "Oh hello, um, Will (my brother's name)... er... Christian." That's okay she has called me Will, um, Christian for years.

It is funny, but being called William... er, Christian was, actually, just the nicest thing.