On August 14th 2019, my beloved and I travelled
to Ireland for a week-long trip. As we like it, a no-fuss trip and time out
with Irish family and friends. Like the rest of the world, we had no clue what
was coming beyond a simple holiday, likely followed by another similar trip by
Spring/Easter 2020.
When I hugged my dad in James’ Hospital that last
visit, kissed his forehead, touched his skin, felt his warm hands, and him in
the throes of increasingly advanced Parkinson’s; I had no idea of what was
next. Mam was up the walls with doctors and nurses and careworkers and trying
to get dad a place in a permanent nursing home.
When I hugged mam a week later in the hallway of our
family home on the morning of August 21st, after we packed suitcases
into our rental car in the driveway and drove away to the airport, I’d also no
clue that would be the last hug for three years.
We were planning a Dutch Christmas at our home in the
Netherlands, and by February we were already looking forward to our next
Ireland trip.
Mam had found a place for dad in a nursing home on the
North side of Dublin shortly after Christmas and he moved there by January
2020. He was settling in well.
Things that happen.
Erica and I had a bad Christmas. We were both
inexplicably unwell for many weeks, one after the other. We were back on our
feet by February 2020 and raring to go.
Things that happen. The world had other ideas.
There was the postponed trip to Ireland in April/May. Then,
there was the working from home, the sourdoughs, the gardening, endless hours
on social media and watching the news. One month slipped away into another. An
endless cycle of just being fed up. Being fed up is also tiring in its own
curious way. I tried to plug away with interviews and writing, but soon learned
that everyone else was also fed up. We had all the time to do all the things we
ever wanted, but were too fed up. I slept more. There was nothing to ‘get up’
for.
Things that happen. Everyone seemed available, time on
their hands, lots of new stuff to be done, but no one was interested in doing
it. What seemed to be happening was that everyone was getting into ‘new stuff’
but not doing the stuff they always moaned they never had time to do!
2020 rolled on. We did the Zoom and Whatsapp. We
learned. We had to. Life is a roller. It moves even when you feel you are
standing still.
Things that happen.
It did. Life sometimes has a way of slapping you
awake. Dad was in good form that Christmas 2020. Two weeks later, he was gone. I’ve
played out the last time I was with him. It’s like a movie in my head. But I
can never change the ending. Much like watching my dad’s funeral from the
Netherlands on a screen is surreal because we couldn’t travel.
You want to make the ending different. You play every
other ending in your head possible; you dream and still it haunts you. But you
can never do that. It is what it is.
Things that happen.
So, here we are, 2022. We got there. Big hugs ahead on
this trip. Never underestimate every moment in life that lies before you. It
might not be there tomorrow, next week or next year. Life is both an occasion
and celebration.
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