My mum is growing old and it is painful to watch. When did this happen, when did I suddenly stop being the little girl and grow into this adult that watches with sadness as she grows weary.
She is 87 and lives alone, refuses to move having lived in her house since 1970. She is lonely, my dad died nearly 20 years ago, and in between working I try and do as much as I can, spending my days off keeping her company. I take her shopping and we have occasional trips to the cinema. She clings to my arm as we take it slowly and she has to stop now and then to catch her breath. But the guilt that I’m not doing enough for her haunts me. And I am scared, very scared, of having to deal with the day that she is gone forever.
She fell recently, couldn’t get up. Thankfully she managed to pull the phone off the table and call me. And then it was a mad dash to get over there and get her off the floor. She was scared, scared that she was going to have to lie there all night. But we made her laugh and then we tucked her up in bed and kissed her goodnight. So now if she doesn’t answer the phone I worry, thinking she might have fallen again.
So I am now riddled with this overbearing guilt and a fear of losing her. And some days I wish that I could be that little girl again, that both my parents were around and I didn’t have a care in the world. And I wonder how it all suddenly changed, when did I become grown up and when did I stop relying on my mum and she instead started to rely on me.
Where once there were dreams in my head there is now just memories. And that’s what we cling to, the memories of when we were young and happy and nothing could touch us.