Well, what a day it has been.
I spent the day yelling at Minerva, not because my evilosity broke free, but because her ‘flu has caused her to get an ear infection and she has become deaf in one ear. So I had to SPEAK VERY LOUDLY for her to hear me, which is not quite the example to set in a library. We chose not to gossip today, or mutter nasty things about the students, as we normally do to vent our frustration and anger, just in case the whole school overheard. Minerva left just after lunch to visit her doctor in the hope of being prescribed a healthy body.
Home, and Mr FD announces that his mother, MIL, has taken a fall. She has been forcing SIL to take her back to her own house for a night each week, and this time as she was lifting her foot the inch up that she needed to cross the threshold, she took a tumble. She is 90 on the 11th and is now too weak to lift her feet to pass through the doorway. We would anticipate this will have been her last visit to the house, but we never underestimate the orneriness of an old woman!
Not half an hour later, and my sister phoned that our Mum had fallen today as well. There was no witness, but they think she slipped in the bathroom. The last couple of days she has been getting very cranky, and telling everyone that she was going to jump over the fence, or run away. She gave my sister quite a hard time yesterday, but Sister mustn’t be the only one, as they had drawn a face on her whiteboard. The face has hair standing on end, but a smiley face, and the word smile written under it. One of the nurses said to her to “look at the whiteboard, and remember we smile around here.”
And today would have been my Dad’s 88th birthday (he died in 2000). He has been on my mind all day. In some ways it only seems like yesterday, but in other ways it seems like a lifetime ago. He has 6 great grandchildren, a 7th on the way that he never got to see, and I know how he would have delighted in them.
It has all caused me to think about hope. If we don’t have hope, what do we have? Age robs people of hope. There is no return, no improvement. No expectations for tomorrow, just more slipping away. Maybe that is why we believe in an afterlife – it is the only hope old people have.
Heavens I have rained on our parade haven’t I? Chocolate all around, I say.