So life when you’re old is reduced to one measly room in a house full of old men and ladies and staff who tell you what to do, when to eat, when to get up. Just a few paltry possessions- is that it? 90 years reduced to this?
He lost his license, his wife, his mind and now his home and I was instrumental in most of that. The one thing I can’t help him lose though – and the one thing he’d want me to help him lose– is life. I wish I could have given him death for his birthday. That’s all he wants. But I can’t. I don’t have that power. Just the power to do all those other things so that his life now has no meaning.
And I feel nothing- no joy, no happiness, no sadness, no pain- as though my soul is empty. I distance myself from everyone and everything. I’m closed in – just an empty shell doing what it has to do day to day.
I get up, do what I have to, go to bed; get up, do what I have to, go to bed. One day, just maybe, I won’t get up at all.
I’m sorry Dad. I wish I could help. I wish I knew what to do. But I don’t – not now, not ever.
But I will always love you and thank you for all the amazing things you did for me.
I am a mother and grandmother who enjoys writing but usually just for my own pleasure. I was born in Essex but spent many of my adult years in various overseas wherever my husband was working. I studied Sociology originally at University but began teaching English as a Foreign Language while abroad. On our return to the UK I began working in adult education teaching Literacy and Numeracy but always had a passion for Early Years education. As such I retrained and spent a number of years working as an early years practitioner, until I retired in November 2019. I now live in Leicestershire and have two grown up children and two young grandchildren with whom I love to play and read stories to.. During Lockdown I wrote a number of little short stories for them, which i recorded and shared with them just for fun.