Skip to main content

Slipping through my fingers...

Words from a Bird.  Day 15

Not every day can be filled with humorous piff-paff and nonsense, and today is one of those days. 

Watching a life slowly slipping away is the hardest thing that any of us have to do, and that time has come with my beloved Nanny Joyce. 

At the fabulous age of 95, you're probably thinking that she's done rather well for herself, and it's about time that she started thinking about leaving us.  I do have this theory that she has had to live to this age to cram in all the things she's done with her life.  Bits would have had to have been left out if she'd only made it to 83.  Knowing her, it wouldn't have been the jazz band, motor bike or sailors that would have been omitted.  But the housework would have taken a real bashing, and my granddad would have worn a shirt resembling a street map most days. 

So we sit and we watch over her, and we watch over each other, caring and supporting through what has been, and will be a difficult time for us all.  We still find humour though, something that manages to get us through anything it would seem.  This afternoon, for example, when Nanny joined us for a few minutes, I asked her if this was the first time she'd got out of bed today.  With all the strength she could muster, she breathed out the word 'Yes'.  My reply?  'You lazy cow!'  It drew a tired smile from her eyes, and for a second you see the beautiful woman hiding inside. 

As she drifted back to sleep, I kissed her and told her how much I loved her.  I mean, I don't want to be have to say that my last words to her were 'You lazy cow!' now do I?

As she enters this next phase in her life, the great love she has shown us is returned in bucket loads. Bits of her family drift in and out of her days, each of us letting her know how much she is loved.  And this love has a weird way of winding itself around those who watch her.  It links us together in our sadness, and puts an arm around our shoulders, in an 'It'll be alright' sort of way.

So when that awful time finally comes, we will be alright....Nanny will see to that.....









Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Say goodbye...

Here's a question for you.  Why is it that when we are dieting, we say that we have 'lost weight'.  To me this implies that at some time in the not so distant future, we're going to find it again.  I like to imagine a 28lb blob of yellow fat in a three piece suit, winking lasciviously at me and saying, 'Oi skinny.  I've missed you.  Fancy letting me ride shotgun around those hips again?'
So instead of 'losing weight' I am getting rid of it.  Throwing it away.  Killing it.   Banishing it, never to be seen again.  Previous experience tells me that I will probably have old Blobby hanging back around my middle in a couple of years, once I've tired of leaves and crispbreads, but I am trying to do things slightly different this time.  Slowing down the stampeding rate I eat (I blame hurried school lunches for this), speeding up the walking, and being more aware of what I am doing and why I am doing it.
Someone once told me that if I ever felt like pickin…

Cold wind blows...

I don't know how cold it is with you at the moment, but I spent yesterday morning snapping the two furballs off various trees and posts as we attempted a walk before I went to work.  I had made the schoolgirl error of asking myself, 'Just how cold can it be?' before putting one extra sweater on beneath my walking coat.  I also had my Olga from the Volga fur hat, a scarf and gloves (to be fair, I've been wearing all of these since the middle of October).  Unfortunately, what I hadn't taken into consideration was the above the knee dress I was wearing to work yesterday.  I imagined that the extra warmth up top would somehow work its way to my knees.  
I was wrong.
Getting back indoors after forty five minutes of combat with The Beast from the East, I looked down at my legs.  Even with the black 100 denier tights I was wearing, I could see that my legs had taken on a slightly different hue to normal.  They were looking like two red pillar boxes, and it took ten minutes …

A man could go quite mad...

I have started to realise that there are many things about me which drive the husband mad.  When you first get together, those small faults are cute and a little bit quirky.  However, fast forward a couple of decades and they become a fairly acceptable excuse for manslaughter.  
I started thinking about this after the contretemps with the cutlery drawer a couple of weeks ago.  If you remember, the husband informed that that I was messing with his feng shui by putting the boiled egg spoons in with the dessert forks.  He only seemed to notice that I did this after I bought a new cutlery tray for the drawer, so I'm blaming Groupon for grassing me up.
The other thing is my snoring.  When we first met, this was described as 'endearing', and he told me that as he lay next to me at night, he used to smile to himself and listen to me.  This swiftly moved on to comparisons with a nasally challenged warthog, and more recently to a Boeing 747 with a noisy exhaust.  I'm considerate …