Monday’s Musings: Caring for Family, Grief & Late Spring at Chaos Cottage

The Sandwich Generation, Polytunnel Chaos & The Reluctant Spring

Last week was one of those strange weeks where normal life carried on alongside funeral arrangements, family logistics and the general emotional admin that comes with losing someone. So it wasn't normal at all, but we carried on as though it was - which is really very British or maybe 'Yorkshire'.

My father-in-law died after a debilitating illness. He’d been poorly for about eighteen months and, as he’d been estranged from Mr’s side of the family for many years, he was adamant that he didn’t want them to know quite how ill he was. As anyone who has ever dealt with family dynamics will know, that leaves a complicated sort of silence behind it. There were difficult conversations, general misunderstandings and grumpiness.

My father-in-law didn’t want a traditional funeral, have they gone out of fashion maybe? It does somehow feel fitting but is still a little sad that there's not something to focus grief around. Instead, there’ll be a small gathering in one of his favourite pubs with a longtime friend saying a few words as opposed to “some bloody vicar I’ve never met”.

Last Thursday we met Mr’s stepmum and stepsister for lunch at one of Stef's favourite places — a fish and chip restaurant. Honestly, there’s something wonderfully British about mourning someone over fish, chips and mushy peas along with a pot of tea.

RIP Stef xxx

The Sandwich Generation

This week has made me think about where so many of us GenXers now find ourselves.

We are, increasingly, the people in the middle. Supporting our oldies as well as our grown up kids. We are;

The organisers.

The carers.

The emergency contacts.

The “have you rung the doctor?” people.

The “we’ll sort it” people.

Until recently, we had four “oldies” depending on us in various ways - my father-in-law, his wife, my mother-in-law and my own mum. All in their eighties. All declining in different ways. All needing support, reassurance, transport, paperwork, patience and time.

We built the annexe for my mum partly because Covid changed how many of us viewed ageing and care homes. Seeing elderly people isolated from their families during lockdown was deeply upsetting for her and she wanted closeness, safety but still some independence while she still had it.

The irony, though - and I suspect many people experience this but are reluctant to say it out loud - is that when you do more for someone, they end up doing less for themselves.

Mum is frailer now than when she moved in. Partly because age catches up with us all, but partly because it’s simply easier for me to do things for her. And when you care for someone, that’s the trap, isn’t it? You help because it feels kind. Then one day you realise you’ve accidentally become responsible for absolutely everything from prescriptions to knickers on the line.

Polytunnel Chaos

In other news, late spring is continuing to behave like a somewhat unreliable dinner guest.

There’s been plenty of sunshine, but the nights are still unseasonably cold, and the wind has had a real bite to it. Every time I think we’re safely into planting season, Yorkshire reminds me not to get ahead of myself.

The polytunnel currently resembles a horticultural hostage situation.

It’s simply too cold overnight to risk putting tender plants out properly yet, so dahlias are stacked everywhere, the sunflowers are threatening to take over (or die because their pots are too small now), the courgettes are getting increasingly impatient and I still haven’t planted the window boxes. I also don’t know where the hanging basket frames are….

Charlie and I were still doing the now-traditional dance of moving trays in and out depending on the forecast, while various bits of fleece, tarpaulin and wishful thinking continue to protect the veg beds from cold nighttime temperatures. But he’s forsaken me this week to house and dog sit for someone so I’m on my own unless I recruit Mr to help.

And yet, despite all that, the garden is waking up properly now and looking rather dapper.

The Reluctant Spring

This morning is beautiful. Trees are full of birds and their nests, the borders are beginning to fill out and everywhere you look something seems to be stretching towards summer - cautiously, like the rest of us (I haven't packed away my jumpers yet).

Life keeps moving. Things grow anyway. People gather. Tea gets made. Dogs still need feeding and the dog poo bucket... well that's never empty.

And somewhere between grief, responsibility and a cold spring chaos in the polytunnel, life quietly carries on here at Chaos Cottage.