The privilege of care

As I have mentioned several time now, my father , who suffered with dementia, died last November , having been cared for by my mother at home for years. As people came to his funeral, they congratulated her on her high quality care for his 8 years of decline and indeed, we were all in awe of her dedication to keeping him well fed, well dressed and comfortable right until his dying day. But as the minister came to discuss funeral arrangements with mum, myself and my sister, I heard him in the porch once again tell her what an amazing job she had done and her response struck a chord with me :” it has been my privilege”

It made me cry then and it still does now, such was the strength of their bond that mum never complained about the repetitive nature of dad’s care and the fact that latterly, he gave her no signs of recognition even let alone gratitude. she has come from a generation that would honour their marriage vows to take care of each other ‘in sickness and in health’.

I have not taken any parent vow but implicitly I feel that by bringing a baby into the world, you have made an unwritten contract, that you will try your utmost to do your best for this child, come what may. I often joke when people say what a good mother I am, that I had no option as ” I did not buy him from M&S, I cannot take him back because he is faulty!” and that usually stops the flattery.

I agree with mum, it is not a chore to take care of Joshua, but a privilege.

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