Mother's Day

This time last year I was at the hairdressers in floods of tears. I'd been overhearing ladies to my left and right talking about their Mother's Day plans. Off they were going to the pub for a roast, hanging out with the mums and grandparents blah blah blah.

I felt so alone and so sad and so envious of their normal. My mum- in complete and painful contrast- was kicking off and escaping out of her care home and we just didn't know how to handle any of it. 

This year was different. I had learnt more about dementia. I now know her limitations and can pinpoint her triggers. As time has passed and the storm has eased, I have learnt to accept our situation and search for ways to make the best of it.

So, having dressed, soothed and sorted mum, I took her up to meet my husband Ben at the coffee shop in the village- her favourite place on earth- mostly thanks to the gorgeous staff who work there. They give her such a warm welcome and make her feel special with a glass of bubbles- 98% elderflower with a smidge of prosecco on the surface for important real-deal-feels.

We laugh, distract and go with her flow. Then before it gets too much, we go 'back to hers' where we pump Handel's Messiah through a portable speaker at full blast. She'd sung this during her time with. Barts Choir many moons ago and I'd come across the music manuscript amongst a pile of gubbins earlier in the week. Mum, in huge happy tears singing and performing her heart out.

Mothers Day this year was short, simple and stressful but oh so sweet and powerful. No pub, no crowds, no real conversation.  Just a supersonic nugget of joy that I won't forget.