continuation

Mr Fantasy went home and then the phone calls began - from all and sundry. The care package didn't kick in as it should have and he started to phone people who then phoned us for information and advice! We played Pontius Pilate again, unashamedly, and referred them to the experts. This man was ambulant, continent and could wash and dress himself and manage his own toileting but we had doctors asking us if he knew how to open the door. How would he feed himself? Their own assessment referred to the fact that he had cooked a meal for his relative on a recent visit so the powers that be were told very firmly that he was quite capable of getting himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea, that he would only starve if he chose to.

He left and I started a holiday only don't run away with the idea that a holiday for me is going away or doing nothing. It began with my children organising some of it for me and so first item on the agenda was Speech Day at my grandsons' school. As promised to No.1 grandson ( although he didn't think I meant it) I wore the big hat and his mother wore a fetching little number, we arrived almost late and he cringed with embarrassment and tried to hide. The face of No.2 grandson was also a picture acccompanied by much head shaking. Once No.1 had received his award the day deteriorated somewhat; the weather closed in so the picnic was consumed hastily indoors. Then came the removal phrase. At the end of said phase there was barely room for passengers, both parents were bathed in sweat and tempers frayed. Mother swore that the start of the new term would find the offspring down sizing and father feared for both his own mental, and the car's,suspension. Coupled with this was anxiety about the funding for No.1's sixth form place, and the what ifs lay upon us all like a leaden blanket as we finally set off home.

I ask myself, constantly, how much more of this I can take? This seemingly relentless requirement for me to keep everyone else steady - and I know I have referred to this before in this place but it does seem to be a recurring theme -and my growing awareness that the ability and wherewithall to do so is draining away. The desire to be released from the continuing commitment is overwhelming at times. How many more times can I scream silently in the bathroom as I try to contain overpowering emotions?
I love all my children and their children to pieces but there is a point where age is creeping up and motivation has to be dug deeper for. In other words the spirit is still relatively willing but the flesh is so very weak.