A Christmas Carol
Spent last weekend busying myself in the 'Ding, firstly by attending a most accomplished Christmas party held by Choc Chip, Romba and Monky, where I ate enough cheese and drank enough Bucks Fizz to fell a rhinocerous, and then on to Bassers to visit my Grandparents in their various homes.
I found my Granddad very unwell, only semi-coherent and weak. It was upsetting, and even my mum, who has witnessed some all-time lows with her parents, found it very emotional. I sat and held his hand awhile, and was completely at a loss as to how to comfort him. Having good reason to fear for my own family's health, right now, it reminded me of how unbearable the process of dying can be. I'm hoping my granddad will recover from this bout of illness, but in the long run, we must all try and prepare for the losses that will inevitably come in the years to come.
Me, Monky and Shaggy are in agreement that it is foolish not to talk about death and your final wishes. Some people find it squeamish, but the fear of it should be reserved for when you meet it face to face. I'd ideally like a viking burial, or alternatively a gigantic pagan funeral pyre. But on the probability that there'd be some Health and Safety directive banning this, I'd settle for my ashes being cast adrift, on the ocean, in a margerine tub, and to be remembered every year by a ceremonial procession of paper boats floating down the river.
On a happier note, I found Grandma to be in good spirits (unusual) and her new home very very plush. It didn't have that smell and that atmosphere that most old people's homes have, and they were having a Christmas party which involved a brass band and carol singing. It was a relief to be able to heartily belt out a few classics with no self-conciousness whatsoever, given that most of the residents have no idea who you are or even what day of the week it is.... strangely people who can remember little of their own lives can still recall songs and sing and clap along. As the band played "Silent Night" I found myself on the verge of tears. It was beautiful and sad, and made me instantly grateful for all I had, and frightened about the things I might never have, or lose. But by the time me and Grandma had finished belting out a truly tuneless version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, I had completely recovered my composure and was actually having a rather good time. Dare I say it, I was actually feeling some CHRISTMAS SPIRIT!!
It also made me think that I really should do some voluntary work with the elderly. It might be difficult but it must also be worth it. There are at least two residents in my Granddad's home who I want to adopt (Sidney and Dot), and Dot never has any visitors, even though she is an absolute diamond, with a glint in her eye that suggests a lifetime of adventure. Which reminds me (whilst I am full of good thoughts) I just LOVE the Salvation Army, and I think a Christmas donation might be going their way this year....
I found my Granddad very unwell, only semi-coherent and weak. It was upsetting, and even my mum, who has witnessed some all-time lows with her parents, found it very emotional. I sat and held his hand awhile, and was completely at a loss as to how to comfort him. Having good reason to fear for my own family's health, right now, it reminded me of how unbearable the process of dying can be. I'm hoping my granddad will recover from this bout of illness, but in the long run, we must all try and prepare for the losses that will inevitably come in the years to come.
Me, Monky and Shaggy are in agreement that it is foolish not to talk about death and your final wishes. Some people find it squeamish, but the fear of it should be reserved for when you meet it face to face. I'd ideally like a viking burial, or alternatively a gigantic pagan funeral pyre. But on the probability that there'd be some Health and Safety directive banning this, I'd settle for my ashes being cast adrift, on the ocean, in a margerine tub, and to be remembered every year by a ceremonial procession of paper boats floating down the river.
On a happier note, I found Grandma to be in good spirits (unusual) and her new home very very plush. It didn't have that smell and that atmosphere that most old people's homes have, and they were having a Christmas party which involved a brass band and carol singing. It was a relief to be able to heartily belt out a few classics with no self-conciousness whatsoever, given that most of the residents have no idea who you are or even what day of the week it is.... strangely people who can remember little of their own lives can still recall songs and sing and clap along. As the band played "Silent Night" I found myself on the verge of tears. It was beautiful and sad, and made me instantly grateful for all I had, and frightened about the things I might never have, or lose. But by the time me and Grandma had finished belting out a truly tuneless version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, I had completely recovered my composure and was actually having a rather good time. Dare I say it, I was actually feeling some CHRISTMAS SPIRIT!!
It also made me think that I really should do some voluntary work with the elderly. It might be difficult but it must also be worth it. There are at least two residents in my Granddad's home who I want to adopt (Sidney and Dot), and Dot never has any visitors, even though she is an absolute diamond, with a glint in her eye that suggests a lifetime of adventure. Which reminds me (whilst I am full of good thoughts) I just LOVE the Salvation Army, and I think a Christmas donation might be going their way this year....
posted by TheMightyDing at 13:41
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