Hesitant

 

Last night we sat and watched the Magpies in my friends backyard. They've gotten to know us and come right up to our feet to feed on the seed we scatter for them. Magpies have good facial recall and long memories, which is a contrast to my friends slowly declining memory. I find it interesting that the magpies presence is increasing during this time.

My friends facial recognition still appears to be ok with people he sees frequently. He's starting to recognise his friends from the day centre when he's with them. If I talk about them he has no clue who they are but as soon as he sees them he knows the face, he may not remember exactly who they are but the face is familiar. 

A week ago we had our quarterly appointment with the Geriatrician. After many questions regarding my friends progress she turned to me and said that I needed to take a break from my carer responsibilities. She told me that the #1 reason that people end up in aged care is carer burnout. She turned to my friend and said that sometime in the near future I needed to have a holiday away from him. He agreed but I don't believe he fully understands what it means.

I'm hesitant to take a break, the thought terrifies me. At this moment in time it's actually impossible, there's no one to step in. Maybe later his family will be able to help. But always in the back of my mind is the thought that if I'm not present everyday he may forget me. It's probably irrational, we've been a constant in each others lives for 29 years, but the fear is still there. 

There's also another side to this, I don't want to miss a second of all the happy moments. We have a lot of laughs together, his dry sense of humour matches mine. I want to stay present because I know all to well one day I'll be left with only my memories. The last few years I spent with my Dad and Charlie taught me that I have to savour the moments. 

I understand what she is saying about carer burnout, I've been at the brink a few times in the last 6 months, but with no other options I call on my inner resilience and keep putting one foot in front of the other. I have no choice but to be a superwoman and I want to be superwoman, I don't want to miss a day. 

I'll think about what she said, but for now I remain hesitant. 

Lib x

Brave

 

Tonight, Charlie has been in my thoughts, she is most of the time. But some moments the grief hits harder and I'm transported back to the days around her passing. 

A couple of days after we gave Charlie her wings I had to go back to work. One of my colleagues walked in, gave me a hug and said that I did a brave thing...

I've thought about this a few times and tonight I'm pondering the thought that although letting go was brave, opening myself up to love in the first place was also brave. 

Which leads me to think that we often don't realise how brave we all truly are. So many things we do in life are brave. It's the moment that you step outside of your comfort zone and do something that has some level of risk attached. When the heart is involved, grief is always the risk or the inevitable end point. The two are inextricably linked. 

There is no measure of brave as much as there is no real measure of a lot of things that are unique to an individual based on their own life experience. Which leads me back to my earlier thought that we often don't realise how brave we are. And if we could recognise our own bravery, we could be brave again. 

A couple of years ago I had to make some tough decisions that had the potential to significantly affect my life as I knew it. At the end when I looked back, I realised that I could actually do hard things. It's easy to forget that sometimes but it appears that Charlie is giving me a gentle reminder of that tonight.

Charlie taught me a lot in her 16 years, and it appears she still is.

Lib x