On my last visit I asked him if he would like me to pick him up the following Sunday and take him to the Harvest Festival service, in the church he previously attended, in the village where he had once lived.
Taking him would entail quite a momentous juggling act, arranging care for my husband, fitting in with meals etc., but my brother was so delighted, and so excited, that it made all the effort well worthwhile.
His village was more of a hamlet, a truly idyllic place by the river, with the tiny, ancient church in its centre. Quaint is a word which describes both the building and the setting, so fitting for a celebration of Harvest.
My brother clearly had beautiful pictures in his mind of sheaves of corn, wonderful plaited loaves, the worshippers' offerings of lovingly polished apples, washed carrots, beautifully arranged in baskets; piles of fruit painstaking arranged on the font, with strings of onions and garlands of hops decorating the window sills and pew ends.
What a cruel disappointment awaited him. The crestfallen look on his face, when he saw toiletries instead of turnips, packaged goods instead of peas, and pears, and potatoes, will haunt me forever.
I found it so difficult to explain to an elderly and very confused person that our needs change, society's needs change, the world's needs change. All he wanted was to enjoy the beauty of yesteryear.
It doesn't seem much to ask. If only it were possible to protect our loved ones, especially those with dementia, from the harsh realities of the present.
I confess to being hopelessly sentimental, so to remind myself of the need for these changes, I have (with tongue in cheek and apologies to Matthias Claudius) re-written the words to 'We Plough the Fields…', our much loved, ancient Harvest hymn.
instead of sprouts and cauli.
who have a roof above.
hot bath, and indoor lav.
all go to show we care.
Today, yet again, I woke up in a bed away from home. To be precise, I woke up at my father's house. This has become familiar after many years of visiting for long periods to support him with his increasing health needs. But today was different. Today I was alone in the house.