Holding the Jumper

When I was pregnant with Bear, it was impossible to imagine how life would become. I was hanging up the little bodysuits to dry for the first time when it began to dawn on me that I was going to have an actual baby. I know it sounds daft, but there’s a world of difference between a theoretical baby and a real one.

I had a similar experience this evening. Dad is at Auntie’s this week and we have been talking about him, how we manage and how we might manage as his condition deteriorates. I went into his room to check for washing earlier and came down clutching a jumper. As I held it close to me, it dawned on me that the opportunities to do these things for him are diminishing. Every day, people ask me how he is. I am able to reel off what is happening. How he really is and what we expect to happen next. I am so caught up in the practicalities, spending time with Dad and making sure that he is happy. I forget the temporary nature of the situation. The temporary nature of life itself.

While I can, I forget that one day I will be left holding the jumper.

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About Ms Invisible

I live in the gaps between words, the pauses in music, the invisible space between objects in a landscape. I am a stay-at-home mum. My dog helps me to get enough exercise and my cat keeps me in my place. None of these things have any status in modern western society and yet they are mine and I wouldn't change any of them. Mr. Invisible is the Dennis to my Margaret, the Del to my Raquel, the Fitzwilliam to my Elizabeth, the David to my Elton, the lucky man who shares my life.

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