Coping

The plants in my parents' house and garden are thriving. This might not be such a remarkable fact as it is bitterly ironic, as my late father always thought that my mother was pretty much incapable of looking after them and let her know it frequently. He was a passionate gardener and had a green tumb, the less he could do physically the more be became a control freak and liked to supervise and comment, much to the annoyance of whoever his attention was directed at. For as long as he could, he watered the potted plants himself and when he didn't have the strength any more, he painstakingly explained just how water every pot demanded to my mum. He trusted me more with the plant stuff, which does not mean that he was not very critical at the same time. We accepted and tolerated it as a typical trait of his chronic illness (COPD), reminding ourselves of the kind person he was before he became ill, but admittedly, it was not always easy.

The plants are just one small facet of everything my mother is handling remarkably well now that she is alone in the house. Several renovation projects of different scales that have long been overdue and she is tackling them now. Lots of things had to be organised (such as standing orders changed to her account from dad's) and some skills to acquire that had been dad's domains until the very end, like online banking transactions and the finer details of their smart TV. Thankfully, that's where I, as the digitally savvy daughter, come in, even if my patience is stretched quite a bit with these projects. Nonetheless, I am incredibly proud of my mum for being so pragmatic, disciplined and self-sufficient and hope that she can focus more on "me-time" for herself soon. She deserves it.

My Usual, Please

When a colleague asked me about my holiday plans and I told her that I would do the same "C&C" (Carinthia and Croatia) routine as the previous 3 years, staying at the same places in both countries, she was surprised and mildly shocked, telling me that she would never do that herself, always seeking out new things to discover. While I do like to do that myself and objectively speaking have seen a lot of the world already with quite a few things left on my list of places I would love to visit, I also really enjoy the comfort of familiar routines in my summer holiday in particular. After all, I have been to Nice more than 10 times and I hope to be able to go there again soon. Although my mother also claims that she'd much rather explore new places rather than revisit familiar ones I do think that my pleasure in the latter originated with family holidays as a child: not only did we travel to (the South of) France several years in a row, we also spent the semester break at the same village in Salzburg province most of my high school years. My maternal grandparents were pretty adventurous for their generation, but also never tired of revisiting Jesolo, Abano or Opatija when they were retired. My mum and I actually have a summer tradition of spending a weekend in Salzburg during festival season, which si my birthday treat for her. Even though both festival tickets and in particular hotel rates come at a hefty premium during those weeks, I don't mind at all as it is something we both look forward to.
My theory is that going to places where you have been before somehow elevates the "relaxation factor" as it allows your brain to switch to autopilot mode and minimise the energy required for thinking and making conscious decisions from year two on. You already know that Pizzeria X is better than Pizzeria Y and the same goes for the local ice-cream parlours and supermarkets, etc. You may find it boring, but I can really recommend a good dose of "same same" at least every now and then.

The Voices in My Head

 

Okay, I admit the title is clickbait of the worst kind...I have not turned gaga (at least I think so, but I might be biased), getting contacted by aliens or receiving commands to start a revolution or some such. What I mean is more along the lines of putting myself in the shoes of other people when a situation reminds me of them. Lately, mostly my deceased father's, when I am working in my parents' garden or doing some DIY jobs. In recent years, he used to show me a lot of things (one could also say: boss me around when he could not physically do them any more) and now it has become a routine for me, checking items on a mental checklist. What else would he have asked me to do in addition to weeding, raking leaves, picking up apples? Perhaps check if the rain gutters are clogged with leaves, cut what is growing through the garden fence from the street-side, things like that.

As I really dislike confrontation and instinctively try to avoid such situations whenever I can, happy to hide behind others who are good at it. My ex-boyfriend sometimes called me a "sheep" as I'd rather endure sub-par customer service than complain about it. I have to say, I have got a lot better at being at de-sheeping myself, but it's still not my forte. When I can't avoid confrontation, I often think about people whom I consider pros in such situations, such as the Empress, or another ex-colleague from Croatia. How would they handle it and address the other party? What would be their tactic? 

So, ultimately, all those voices are a safety-net of a kind and I'm not ashamed to call them to my rescue whenever needed.

Stuff

 

The house that Highflyer and I recently bought came with EVERYTHING in it, which we knew beforehand. There is a lot of clutter and useless (to us) stuff, but there are also some gems that we would like to keep and use ourselves and others that we are planning to sell. It's a lot of work and a thin line between treasure hunt and decluttering mission and each of us renting or even owning other properties as well it's also a loud reminder that some one some day will go through what you amassed over the course of centuries and likely also throw the greater part of it onto a "trash" pile...

Dinner For One

At the beginning of the first lockdown in 2020, my parents and I started this routine of taking pictures of our meals. I would send them photos of every lunch and dinner I had with Highflyer and vice versa my dad would send me a photo of their lunch (usually eaten at 12:00 on the dot). My colleagues have long got used to me taking a picture of my tray in the canteen, as have my friends of me first taking a picture of my plate before tucking in. Now that dad is gone, mum and I are continuing the tradition as it's an easy way to signal to the other party that you're alive and kicking without having to make a proper phone call. While I have always loved cooking and baking and also presenting food nicely on pretty plates, with aesthetic placemats and matching napkins, knowing that you're taking a photo of it, has elevated it to the next level and even when I eat alone, which often is the case due to Highflyer's and my sometimes mis-aligned work schedules, I eat well and I eat "pretty". To me, it's a form of self-care in the same league as taking a bath or reading a good book on the hammock in the garden. It's not an effort, but something I am happy to invest a little time in (even though I am a very fast cook) because it adds to my well-being.

Simple Pleasures

 

Last week was very productive and - challenging weather apart - included the annual Salzburg Festival weekend with Mum, but also unexpectedly turbulent, with yet another death, very close by, this time only geographically, not closeness-of-relation-wise at least, but needless to say it brought back memories I had hoped to push a little farther back in my mind. So, for now, just sharing a little pleasure/obsession of Highflyer and mine: frozen (seedless) grapes. Best. Thing. Ever. It took being influenced by, well,...influencers to discover the most addictive healthy summer snack ever. If you haven't tried it: run!

Eulogy

 

Last Thursday was my Dad's funeral. Even though I had already delivered 3 eulogies before (more than a decade ago), this one was special, because even though I also had a special bond with the other people, in particular my two grandmothers at whose funeral I spoke, it's another level of closeness you feel with your parents, in particular as an only child.

knew that I wanted to do "my thing" again: a) speak without any notes and b) giving the sad occasion a positive spin and encouraging people to remember positive things about the deceased. I won't lie, it was one of the proudest moments of my life and all the positive feedback I got (from Highflyer telling me he was so proud of me and Mum confirming it was a beautiful speech that Dad would have loved, to one of Mum's friends telling me it brought tears to hear eyes and another one thanking me for allowing everyone to leave on such a positive note, to several people telling me they were in awe as they could never speak at their loved one's funeral themselves) was the most valuable and precious I ever received for any challenge I have mastered so far. Despite it being a sad occasion, it was a heart-warming farewell and I am very much at peace due to my part in it.