30th September 2012 Sunday
The pussy cat did pee - yesterday on the sitting room carpet. Today he tried to on my husband’s boots but I lifted him off in time. I talk to my brother in Holland for advice. He says we don’t know why the pussy cat is still holding on when his body is clearly failing but still to trust he will go when he’s ready and we don’t need to intervene.....
Felt very emotional yesterday with all my dear cousins and their families at our yearly get together in a church hall in Bristol. Everyone brings plates and bowls of food to share, the little ones run around in the sunshine outside. Last year my father was with us. My aunty who is ninety-nine says she prays for my husband and me every day along with her daughter who has Altzheizmer’s. My eldest cousin’s husband says the same. We talk to my cousin who has prostate cancer about Mindfulness Meditation which he practises. I’m so moved by his resolution, his humour, his lightness of touch in the face of his illness. And the pain in his family.
My husband doesn’t recognise anyone’s faces but he knows he knows them. He does a great job washing up after the lunch. He says it’s easier than making conversation. I worry he might say something inappropriate like he did last time.
Later he doesn’t say much at all when we are sitting round my nephew’s table with his wife and my big sister, tucking into a deep purple red Borsch soup, melting Camemert cheese and fresh crusty bread. But he loves being with my great nephew who is a sweet delight - taking us on a tour of their garden, squashing blueberries in his little fists, banging a mini frying pan on top of his cuboard stove, playing with my sister’s necklace, laughing a mischevious laugh and sitting on my lap turning the pages of a book. A being of pure joy.
Today I feel washed out and don’t feel like doing anything - especially not my life. The decorator comes with paint samples, we start making a book of photos of friends and family and write their names next to the photos to help my husband recognise them. But I don’t think it’ll work. We walk by the river at Otterton, have delicious black bream for lunch, discover my husband has sold one of his pieces at the gallery and celebrate with a black cherry icecream cone at Budleigh.
It’s the Tribunal tomorow. I’m dreading it.