I’m writing a speech for a Dignity in Care conference in Birmingham next week. I’m basing it on this blog which has given me the chance to re-read my ramblings.
Re-reading shows how far we’ve come. It reiterates that Mum’s current situation – safe and secure in a loving residential home – is so much better that what she had endured in the months before her move. In many ways, we are very fortunate but as you know, I’m still prone to bouts of melancholic reflection on the last three and a half years since Mum’s diagnosis. The fact of the matter is that I miss Mum. Yes, I see her every week and yes, I know she’s well cared for. I also know that we’re so lucky to have found a place like the home she has now. None of that makes up for the fact that I miss the real her so much. I miss my father, who died more than three years ago, but that’s somehow less painful to deal with.
This blog is called “She’s Still My Mum” and she is. The truth is, though, that she’s a shadow of her former self. There, I’ve said it. Please don’t get the impression I’m feeling sorry for myself – I’m not. I suppose what I’m really saying is that I’m mourning the part Mum could still be playing in the lives of her family and friends. Nothing can replace that.