I do not have a good relationship with my Ma. Which is unfortunate, because I am the 'child' that she now has to rely on since Pa died. She lives alone, and has carers come in 4 times a day. I telephone twice a day and visit every week. We both try, and to some extent, we succeed, but it seems that we just don't get on really. Never have. Allied to that, her increasing signs of dementia, with confusion and forgetfulness and repetition is something I struggle to deal with...I know I'm doing wrong when I sometimes, in frustration, say 'you told me that four times earlier today'.....and mostly I keep my thoughts to myself...but I am her 'you're just like your father' and not in a good way child. So yes, I don't always hold my tongue, but I really really try. It is a work in progress.
Yesterday though, we had a telephone call that was longer and sweeter than any other, and we both enjoyed it. Not because we spoke nicely to each other or shared any tenderness of thought or feeling, or managed not to get 'prickly' with each other. You see Ma is blind, and she spends all day listening to the radio. It seems that a carer had come whilst she was listening to something and had Ma 'missed the end...what happended?'. She had been listening to Tess of the D'Urbevilles and was asking lots of questions about a book I must have read over 50 years ago. So I said to her 'hold on' and fired up the laptop for a version of the story...which I read to her, over the phone. I read, and I could 'hear' her listening....the 'mmmm' every now and then, and the questions, and for me the remembering, and for her, hearing a story that was new to her. It was magical.
