Chapter 478 - An Ending, A Beginning

Another gone, how many more left? A quiet Xmas alone except we attended a lunch in our village hall with others left by themselves. One mentioned the "Duchess", a lady who, with her aged husband in tow, relocated a short distance north of Big Smoke a year or two ago. Some months ago she lost her husband then her two sons (30 - 40 years old) to an inherited medical condition. I rang her, leaving a message. On Boxing Day she returned the call, telling me almost immediately that 2017 was the year she lost her "three men".

Another call from our daughter that same day was much more joyful; our eldest grand daughter was expecting a baby next July. I took the handset into our bedroom for my PWP to hear the news first hand. The conversation was short; I suspect interrupted by accidental button bumping even though the handset was on speaker.

So I sent the following text in an email:

Thanks for the joyful news this morning. I had hoped the news would inspire some enthusiasm, happiness, in [PWP] but that was not to be when she was intent on sorting through our wardrobe for unused clothes and 2 new pairs of trousers of mine needing the legs shortened. I have now stood on a chair to have pins inserted in one pair for her to busy herself with for the rest of the day.

So sad.

Two days later the following reply:

That's OK.
I had figured as much, given Mum's present state of mind.
Mum wasn't very enthusiastic about my pregnancies or her grandchildren either. At least to me, what she was like with others I believed was a bit more positive.
Maybe [Grand Daughter's] news will sink in a bit more over time or after the birth.
[Grand Daughter] is happy that you are excited at least.

To which I replied (in part):

I suppose it could be her "present state of mind" from your point of view except that it's her long term deteriorating PD condition in action; lack of emotion, slow unmodulated voice, inability to complete a task in hand before being distracted to something else, slowness/difficulty doing a task and from time to time says of herself that she has difficulty expressing her thoughts into words.........

I continued, in an effort to defend my PWP, by citing several instances to illustrate my PWP's enthusiasm and concern about our daughter's difficult pregnancies almost 30 years ago. My comments were not appreciated, resulting in a much longer response which concluded with:

Get your facts straight. There are many more things that you are probably ignorant of and things my mother has fabricated, exaggerated or just not told you. I am guessing I am all to blame in your eyes. I'll let that be your problem because I won't make it mine.

I have decided  to neither further this correspondence nor to attempt to clarify the number of issues raised in the email by discussing them with my PWP. A beautiful event has been ruined by misconceptions, faulty memories (mine included) and lack of personal contact.

A few days before Xmas her new recline-able, tilt in place wheel chair was delivered. There are some minor difficulties about it that we are still getting used to but the great benefit of it is the ability to make her comfortable.

Last Friday a pleasant lunch with her sisters et al at the Highlands club.

I'm unsure whether she completed raising the cuffs on my trousers, begun on Boxing Day. Yesterday she spent a number of hours attempting to sew some lace around fabric to make a table cloth. As she fatigued late in the afternoon she said she was unable understand what was happening; after hand stitching a length of the fabric she would discover she had unpicked it again; seemingly doing this repeatedly without understanding why.

She continues to sort objects in cupboards and the fridge; often only several days elapse between sorting the same cupboard; unless it's my memory failing. Pulling threads in clothing, towels and the like is a common pursuit lately. Some time ago she began cleaning labels off small jam bottles and for which I often needed to apply turps to remove glue residue; not knowing of any purpose for this activity I was quite proud of her when she began handing those bottles filled with chocolates, topped with Xmas coloured pieces of fabric, to each of the carer ladies from Wild Dog when they came to shower and dress her before Xmas.

This season I refused to send Xmas cards, instead responding with post cards displaying a local town scene, rather than pseudo religious icons, Perhaps next year I may advise all who send pithy family stories how to access this blog. It's not that I'm bitter, just not as sweet as I once was.