I’ve just walked Hettie up the village to the woods. The dense shade literally singing with the sound of insects escaping the harsh sun.
I’m coming home when I see a boy about six peering down from a turret on one of those solid wooden climbing frames. I don’t know him but I shout ‘Hi up there!’
I have to smile to myself when I clearly hear him say to his friend,
‘Who’s that old Lady’?
I’ve my sun dress on in this season’s fashionable brown, sandals my daughter deemed as ‘trendy’ and designer sunglasses from TK Maxx.
I thought I looked quite good for my age but obviously not!
Funny thing being sen through someone else’s eyes. I suppose I thought 64 was old once upon a time!
The final days of year six, and for my Grandson many ‘last times’. He goes to the local Catholic school, we’re not Catholic but a percentage of the children who attend aren’t either. It has an inclusive ethos, based on kindness and respect, and that is what shone through this afternoon.
His last Mass in the church he has attended many times with his class mates over the years. This one special because primarily it was for the year six leaver’s.
Its theme, ‘look back with pride and happy memories, but also look forward to more adventures in education’.
The Father had the whole school in his hands, a mixture of formal religion but also an absolute understanding of young people. He asked all the teachers what they had learnt since September, there were a few surprises. My grandson’s teacher said he has learnt to be an artistic director. He has the responsibility of the end of year production, the one of course I’ve heard so much about.
Interestingly there weren’t many other family members in attendance, it’s difficult for working parents, but I wouldn’t have missed this service for the world. I was strangely emotional, my grandson took part in the service reading clearly and confidently – it really only seems five minutes since he started school in reception, and in a few days he’ll be ‘walking on’ to high school.
I arrived a bit early, and with the heat wave firmly back sat in the church garden on a bench in the shade.
Another lady came to join me, white haired and with a twinkle in her eye we soon started chatting. ‘Are you a grandma too?’ I asked her. She chuckled, then replied
“Yes, I’m one of the teacher’s Grandma”
Turns out her Grandson teaches my Grandson.
A common bond shared.
We talked about the transition from primary to ‘big school’ and how it is probably one of the most important things that happen to eleven year olds.
She also said how hard it was for her Grandson to ‘let his class go’ especially as he has taught them for two years.
But that is how life is, there is no option to stand still, change is the only constant and how we grow very much depends on how we embrace new situations.
We enjoyed each others company for a while, until the peace was broken by the chatter of at least two hundred children.
Seeing the whole school arrive on foot for the service – a long snake of uniforms, made me grin. They just kept on coming. All a bit sweaty but everyone with a smile.
The year sixes held hands with their buddies from reception. It was very evident that they had close bonds. It will be a wrench for those going into year one next year alone, but they have been well prepared with support and encouragement from their peers and I have first hand knowledge of that.
The church was full, the singing was joyful, everyone but me seemed to understand the nuance’s of the Catholic service. The children’s behaviour was impeccable, everyone respectful of the surroundings.
It was hot, people could have been grumpy but instead everyone seemed genuinely happy and you could feel it.
I sat next to the other Grandma, both of us glowing with pride, the way us Grandmother’s do, we hope we might even see each other again at the end of term production.
I felt a bit flat this morning, my PT session was a struggle, I realised it wasn’t my body but my brain that wasn’t in the right gear.
Seeing all those young people, all uncomplaining, all celebrating those in year six has really lifted my spirits, in the words of the hymn,
‘From the old we travel to the new’.
The future feels positive in the hands of children.
Sunday was the annual bring your own picnic on the village green. The family turned out in force to support me, it was a very pleasant informal gathering and noticeably more children attended, my swing-ball table tennis and outside games came into good use.
Probably the first time in a while that I didn’t feel under any pressure at a ‘do’. My neighbours all know the situation, Ken was mentioned more than once, but it was mainly regarding his building skills and the Parish Council – he did lots work for the village in the past.
Things move on, and I think I’m viewed as practical and capable, odd then last night I kept waking with disturbing flash backs I certainly didn’t enjoy.
I heard a neighbour who moved away a few years ago had suddenly died this week, and it brought strong feelings for his widow that shocked me. A very different scenario to Ken, but as the deceased was also just approaching retirement and had hoped for a relaxed life by the coast, it made me very sad.
Maybe the news mixed up my emotions. Last night I couldn’t help but worry about those who are closest to me, for whom things are clearly a struggle. The matriarchal instinct is a powerful one and keeping my brood safe is core.
But how do you support others when you know you are also vulnerable yourself?
Ken wasn’t just “lost” at the end. In many ways, we have been grieving for over ten years. With young-onset Alzheimer’s, families experience what many professionals call living grief—you lose pieces of the person over time, then when death finally comes, the shock can still be enormous, especially if it was sudden and traumatic. Those two kinds of grief can exist together and it’s a very complicated cocktail.
For the ‘workers’ soon everyone expects people to be “back to normal.” Bereavement leave ends, colleagues stop asking, and life carries on. Yet the grief is probably becoming more real rather than less. Many people say the hardest time starts once everyone else assumes they’re okay.
“Doing the garden has been my solace.”
Some people feel guilty when they begin enjoying life again, as though they’re betraying the person who died. In reality, living well is one of the ways we honour those we love.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared my garden with you – the new borders, the water feature, the patio, choosing plants, moving pots. Looking back, I realise this isn’t just a gardening project. I see myself slowly creating a peaceful place after years of living with uncertainty and loss.
The garden isn’t me moving away from Ken. It’s creating somewhere that love can continue to exist in a different form.
The family may not have found their equivalent yet.
I can’t solve their grief. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts I can give is permission to grieve without trying to fix it.
We don’t have to be over this, we don’t have to be ‘better’. Ken was a massive part of the family, and he would be incredibly proud of us all. He was deeply loved, and although Alzheimer’s took so much from him, it didn’t take away the family he built.
Maybe the healthiest thing I, as a mother can say is, “I struggle sometimes too, but we’ll all get through this together.”
This afternoon delivered my second session of dementia training to the staff of the local charity I’m working with.
Feedback was all positive and as always the practical elements were well received.
When you put yourself in someone else’s shoes it is always a learning experience.
This group already knew a lot in practical terms but seemed to enjoy the theory, we also shared some brilliant real life stories and acted out scenarios which made everyone see things from a different perspective.
One thing I didn’t expect was how strange it felt to speak of Ken in the past tense, someone said to me afterwards ‘That can’t have been easy’.
The truth is any opportunity to bring Ken back into focus is important to me, and I am always trying to find something positive from his life. Talking about dementia when it has been so close definitely gives me a credibility that I think gives me an advantage over some trainers.
People listen.
Ken is still making a difference.
My other big accomplishment this week has been building a small patio area for my bistro set in the front garden.
I have tried to be as professional as possible, getting it level and lined up properly.
Digging out the turf was definitely the toughest part the ground is rock hard, I put down a membrane and fine gravel then positioned the slabs.
As usual I had neighbours coming over to examine my work, one in particular gave me an unexpected and compliment. He was very surprised, and very uncharacteristically told me ‘I was a chip of the old block’. Meaning my Dad.
Praise indeed.
I’m finding more from necessity, and with a lot more spare time that I’m tackling jobs I would never have considered in the past, who knows what is next but I know my limitations.
Maybe I’m just working my way through grief. At least I have something to show for it.
Keeping busy is my nature and Monday’s are generally devoted to Youth Club.
Some youngsters simply don’t fit into mainstream schools and learning life skills is more of a priority. One of the regular groups is 15/16 year old girls who attend sessions during school hours and have practical lessons such as planning meals, shopping for ingredients and cooking. Without realising they are practicing mathematical and language skills, organisational development and communication.
They have done really well this term, and as a finale hosted a pop up cafe in the town hall, showcasing their confidence and creativity and raising funds for their chosen dog charity.
I popped in to support and enjoyed homemade bakes, sandwiches and refreshments. My neighbours kindly supported them too, and were pleasantly surprised by the teenagers keen to show their new skills.
A chance to see youngsters in a different light, certainly these girls were chatty and engaged in a way that we rarely see when at Youth Club.
Their School head of year came to see them too and I overheard her say how proud she was of them.
A really positive experience for all.
In the usual evening sessions I find myself playing football as only three a side.Apparently making some decent tackles, but to be honest in this all boys SEN group I’m the smallest by a head, so avoid too much confrontation.
Sticking to the rules can be challenging for this lot but the ref was firm and everyone had fun.
Second session, more foot ball.
The usual professional coach doesn’t show.
I’m a poor substitute. (Ken would have been in his element).
The age ranges from 11 to 16, this lot a lot more challenging and competitive. I definitely stick to the side lines, encouraging and mediating when necessary.
Luckily everyone here knows the rules. We’ve two goals but no pitch marking so things have to be quite flexible. We more or less go with the flow.
My main aim is to keep the sides fair, seven a side a mixture of the older and younger, including some talented girls, it is actually very special seeing this big mix joining in together, not a phone in sight.
It the foul language rather than fouls that is an issue. For some especially in this situation it is simply their language, there’s a limit how much I can do, other than repeatedly request to keep it clean.
If you’d said to me eighteen months ago I’d be in the middle with this lot I’d have told you that you are mad. But it was a great, and seeing everyone interacting shows how sport brings people together.
Unfortunately there is usually some sort of incident that can tarnish the session.
Not in the football group today.
A lot of the kids here have issues, compulsive behaviour being one of them, they do stupid stuff without considering the consequences.
Shame.
So a real mixture of positivity and negative energy, pretty much reflecting teenage life.
I only do Mondays and for me that’s enough, but I have huge respect for anyone who chooses Youth work as a career.
I’d heard a lot about ‘Bike Ability’ from my Grandson. Rather like the cycling proficiency test of my days.
Almost ready to leave primary school it seems to be the right of passage for 11year olds and also means missing normal lessons.
I think his expectations were set a little too high, we’ve been on ten mile bike rides together, he is already very capable but needs more experience in road traffic.
Teacher’s managing a group of year six with very varied abilities have a lot of risk assessment paper work, so instead round the block on estate streets was all they got.
He recalled his disappointment on the walk to school this morning. ‘Actually Grandma I forgot to say, you were the talking point of the whole course’.
I’m a bit surprised to hear this, but there is much laughter as I get the explanation.
On the first morning Grandkids plus mountain bike were delivered early doors to mine. The plan being my grandson ride while we walked to school.
I bounced his bike down the steps from the house, thinking it would be okay, it is a mountain bike after all, but the chain slipped off much to the dismay of the boy looking on.
I don’t often get credit points, but deftly turn the bike upside down and refitted the chain, much to my grandson’s relief and surprise.
Late now we set off, my hands stained with oil.
‘You go ahead’ I told him, whilst jogging with his sister.
He was quickly out of sight.
We got to school just in time, I went to the year six class to find everyone comparing bikes with a palpable air of excitement.
He’d arrived safely.
The bike ability was more theory than riding it turns out, but all bikes were checked to ensure that they were road worthy.
The instructor mentioned my grandson’s bike chain being in good order, and was told that Grandma had had put it back on after she’d bounced the bike down the front steps this morning.
I’m not sure exactly what vision the instructor had of me but he’d asked the question ‘Is your Grandma crazy?’ In front of the whole class.
‘Oh yes totally, she does lots of crazy stuff, even jumping out of planes!’
He also rather embellished my cycling abilities and love of water fights.
It seemed every one laughed.
Later whilst practicing emergency stops, pupils in turn were told to shout out a name then everyone had to slam on their breaks.
One comedian in the group had apparently shouted;
‘Seth’s Grandma!!’ to much amusement.
So it seems I have a bit of a reputation with this lot of year sixes, but what touched me most was my grandson’s final comment.
‘We will all remember bike ability because of ‘Seth’s Grandma’ rather than any of the other things’
I’m really pleased with my new water feature. Something I have had in mind for a long time but never quite seen the right thing.
What I didn’t expect was the enormous delivery lorry, or the heavy wooden pallet it came on.
‘Can’t you take it back?’ I ask.
‘Sorry love we have to leave it with you too – Company policy’
So, it’s been leaning against a wall in the courtyard, rather spoiling the aesthetic, but with the energy sapping heat of the last week I simply couldn’t muster the effort to deal with it.
Today with more average temperatures and a lively breeze I decide to tackle the issue, thinking it will be good fuel for the wood burner next winter.
I’ve kept a chest of Ken’s hand tools and set to work with his trusty hammer and saw. It’s cheap wood but I’m quite impressed with myself and soon have the thing cut in half. I don’t wreck it completely, I realise it might be a project for the grandkids in the summer holidays, but it’s small enough now that I can now store it out of sight.
Then one of those overwhelming feelings suddenly hits me; handling the tools that Ken’s hands have held.
As James said in his eulogy his Dad was a craftsman, sawing wood like a knife through butter, hammering in a nail with two blows.
I always loved watching, and was in awe of his skill and perfectionism.
Sadly Ken never got to appreciate his Grandchildren growing up, or feel proud of their achievement. It’s been quite the week; first James’s singing, then both the grandkids winning trophies one for tap dancing, the other for football.
Ken would have relished his family’s successes.
I’m also sure he would have loved passing on his own skills to them. A patient teacher for whom time would never have been a problem. It makes me so sad that this opportunity has been denied.
But I will try. I may only be amateur but I’m sure that they will enjoy hammering in nails and making something out of that pallet. I want them to understand just how clever their Grandpa was before he became poorly, and hopefully holding his tools may give them a bit of a connection to their Grandpa.
Certainly those tools may be well used and probably not as sharp as Ken would have had them, but they hold his DNA and are very precious reminders of what he could achieve.
I am doing my best to honour the past but move forward, the next generations are our future.
A few days in and I’m finding the heat exhausting .
The thunder and lightning that woke me did little to clear the air.
I’m like a plant planted in the wrong place, wilting, dreaming of air -conditioning.
But there have been some major highlights this week, I’ve had some lovely visits from friends and yesterday evening I was James’s guest at a huge property Charity corporate event in the conference centre at Elland Road.
My son in law was also there with his company at another table, so despite being a bit of an interloper I felt in good hands.
This event has been a massive distraction during our recent difficult times for James. He and a colleague were one of the ten acts on stage and it has taken a great deal of preparation and rehearsal.
I had absolutely no clue, nor did my son in law the huge scale of this event. Property companies from all over Yorkshire booking tables for their staff at premium rates I would image.
All profits for the event going to a homeless charity in Leeds, which some how felt appropriate – giving something back.
When I got off the train I saw at least five men sitting on the pavement begging in different locations in the City. The need is definitely there. Homeless people all have stories this evening was to recognise and support such people The Crypt is a charity that provides food and shelter for those in dire circumstances.
The conference room was massive, more than a hundred tables each accommodating ten guests. We arrived as it was beginning to fill up, the whole area bathed in a violet blue light (with air-con) – it was like landing on another plant compared to the powerful heat outside.
James was already there, and my son in law ‘spotted’ him immediately.
Well he was difficult not to miss, towering above most, and wearing a black and silver shirt that reflected in the spotlights.
Very different from his usual attire.
I was seated with the other lovely performers and their guests, and was also introduced to James’s work colleagues on another table.
Everyone was very excited.
I could tell James and his duet partner were a bit nervous, as the venue filled up I was too, I couldn’t help but think what an act of courage it is for any amateur performer to sing in front of such a huge crowd.
They were the sixth act. The program was very varied, some rock, some musical theatre, pop (Pink Pony Club -sadly I know all the words) all genres.
Some had props and costumes, one had dancing girls; accompanied by the resident band the standard was very good.
Finally James and his partner. Typically not an easy arrangement but a mash up of two songs.
Zombie by the Cranberry’s and Creep by Radiohead.
Challenging song choices.
But then that’s typical.
To those of you who don’t really know, James has two sides.
The kind patient guy, the meticulous planner who is sociable but not pretentious.
On stage he commands an altered ego, owns the stage and has a strong modern voice that makes people stop and listen.
I’ve seen him in action before, and had every once of confidence that he would absolutely ‘smash it’ but to most of his work colleagues it came as a complete surprise.
With his partner they put on a pure and powerful performance, both voices complimented each other perfectly. The audience were on their feet and I was stood on a chair!
Watching the reaction of his peers was incredibly special, the mixture of awe and excitement palpable. They had no idea it was going to be this good.
The stage presence James has doesn’t come from me or his Dad. I think his voice comes down from his Grandad my Dad, known locally for his voice.
Ken would have been so proud, especially seeing James perform in such an iconic venue that meant so much to them both.
It was very clear to all James was relishing every note, hitting the high one to a huge round of applause.
His Boss was literally bursting, so proud the pair represented their architectural firm with such a stunning performance, but in absolutely shock too.
‘You must be so proud!’ She told me.
I explained James’s stage presence started age five as Percy the Park Keeper in the class assembly. I honestly wouldn’t have expected anything less, but at that moment I wanted everyone in the place to know I’m James’s Mum.
I have not felt so elated for a very longtime.
I know James didn’t want the performance to end, it has given him a huge focus over the last difficult six months and the bonds and new friends he has made at the rehearsals have been really supportive.
It’s an annual event.
James says he won’t be doing it again, it’s such a massive commitment, but his wife Mhairi was in America and couldn’t be there – so I’m keeping my fingers crossed he might change his mind.
livinglifeafterdeath.com/blog 