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.