Weekly update – Grandma, the dusty museum and the strain is showing

It is hard to believe how almost three months have passed by since we were jolted and moved to the dusty museum.  I look at the museum and question whether we did the right thing and then, in a flash, the answer is yes, we did.  However, it is not without cost, strain and some stress.

The news on Grandma is that she’s still in hospital, now into her third week.  Apart from our visit last week (when we thought we were saying our farewells) we haven’t been able to see her because of the Coronavirus.  Telephone contact is difficult and disjointed.  We call every day and, as before, are often told different things by different people.

However the good news is that she’s poised to be discharged, although it seems the details are yet to be worked out.  We don’t know yet whether it is best to have her back home straight away, or, have a stepping stone into a nursing home.  Nursing homes are tricky environments these days; we wouldn’t be able to see her, she would be confused and disorientated and they have been riddled with the virus.  And yet with decreased mobility and strength, the diagnosis of vascular dementia and all of the other needs of a frail 94 year old, we don’t know how we’ll manage.  Trying to manage is, however, the best thing to do, we think.

Moving out of our house

We have tenants lined up for November and yet there is still plenty to do.  Aside from a tenancy agreement, there’s so much to sort.  Gas check (done), electrical check (done) and energy efficiency (today).  We have sold, stored or given away most of our furniture.  We have emptied the attic and moved the contents to the museum.  We have filled a garage and the conservatory here, plus various other bits and pieces here and there.

Our house has stopped being a home for us.  It is now a house with memories of moving in from our honeymoon, our girls growing up there, the many seasons and years.  I know every inch of that house and every inch of the garden too.   Now it’s a house made of bricks, a financial asset.  And also a liability.  We have just forked out for new fascia boards and guttering.  Now we need some plastering re-done behind a wardrobe and all of the inevitable ongoing maintenance.

So I’m a reluctant landlord.  I don’t want the hassle, especially as I’m not confident at DIY and I have the dusty museum to get to grips with.  I had thought, on being retired that I might enjoy a slightly easier and more comfortable life, free from tossing and turning at night as I worried about a problem at work.  I want to be involved in some voluntary work, improving my fitness, enjoying my friends and being a good friend, travelling and learning new things.  That’s without even developing some work with a greater cause – to make my life mean something beyond what I have already done.

While I might have moments of feeling discontent, frustrated at living amongst so much which I have little control over, I just stop, stand back from my thoughts and quickly try to rebalance my thoughts.  I am blessed beyond what I could ever deserve; I am so poor and yet I am so rich.  I am not entitled to a cushy life and yet I have so much to be grateful for.

I watch the news.  I see reports of desperate people risking everything in those little boats trying to make it across the channel.  They are fleeing terrible war-torn countries, being exploited and manipulated along the way.  I see Trump, arguably the most powerful man in the world, and yet a deluded man willing to trample over others in order to pursue the great American dream.  I see countries with oppressive regimes and injustices everywhere.  We live in a world full of terrible injustices and yet there are so many examples of incredible humanity which brings things back into focus.

Even within the UK as it tries to grapple with COVID, we see people struggling with harsh immigration rules, losing jobs and many living by a thread.  So who am I to grumble?  I have so much, I am so blessed.  I have to believe the best is yet to come but over the last few weeks I have begun to wonder what that might look like.  Even though our move to the dusty museum is not exactly a surprise, I just don’t know what the future looks like for us – where we will be in a year or two or beyond.  I just don’t know.

While this uncertainty does bother me, by nature I am optimistic, the glass is alway half full.  So let’s do our best, we cling tightly to each other.  Let’s be sensible, keep things in perspective, always do our best to do the right thing and see where the narrow path takes us.