Pam’s Perspective 2 [26]

10 Mar

It’s a seductive affair, writing a blog.  You sit, the keys at your fingertips, and pour out your heart in private. You can cry, and no-one notices.  You can scream, and no-one can hear.  You can say all the things that are bottled up in your throat, and no-one looks shocked, or uneasy.  And then you hit a few buttons and click a couple of links and whoosh – all your innermost feelings are ‘out there,’ for all to share.  Scary.

One of the most unexpected side-effects of Martin’s illness has been the resurgent ache that I have for my own parents.  You would think at this stage of the game I wouldn’t want to reach for the phone to call my mommy; thank the powers-that-be I have been a mommy myself for a beautifully long time.  It’s over a quarter of a century that I haven’t had a dad – how weird is it now to long for his hug, for my mother’s calm coping skills, for their advice and love.  But miss them I do – more and more each day, it seems.  Not for their help with the shopping, or the cooking, or the laundry; I miss just being able to talk.  There are certain things – the thoughts that hit as I drive home from work, the conversations that Martin and I have in the small hours of the morning, when we lie holding hands in bed, crying softly and chatting – that you can’t really share with anyone except a mom and dad.  It’s not fair to burden the kids – and I put so much on my brothers and sisters-in-law as it is – there have to be some limits, somewhere.  So I long for my parents, with that twisting, raw ache.

And then I stop myself.  I think of my special daughters – who walk in from their own busy lives, wash their hands, and start cooking for us; and my brothers and sisters-in-law who are always, always there for us – God! How lucky we are! – and my family and friends who have kept up an unending, embracing blanket of support with calls, and practical help, and visits and more, all through this long, long time (which we hope will stretch on for the longest time yet) … and I have to count myself blessed.  And I think how lucky I am that I can still hold my husband in the quiet hours of the night, and we can discuss all manner of things together, and that in the warm sunlight of morning, life still can look good.

As I type my heroic husband is cleaning up our garden for Pesach, pruning and sweeping and planting new buds to brighten up our Chag.  He popped a Tarceva in mitten drin, as my mom used to say, and we pray that it keeps him stable and well.  And he pops in every ten minutes to check on West Ham – since he’s been ill I’ve taken to caring about this maddening soccer team too … just let them get back into the Premier League, soon.

And as Pesach rolls round I think just maybe I might clean this year, as I do each spring – although I thought I’d never care about that again.  And I think how weird to be so glad that I want to scrub behind the washing machine … and I think how strange life is bichlal, and I get up from this surrogate life – the computer – and put on the kettle to make my husband a cup of tea. 

Lechaim – and happy, happy cleaning to us all.


[26] This is the second time Pam has written her perspective. The first, seemingly ages ago, was written on 24th November, 2011.

5 Responses to “Pam’s Perspective 2 [26]”

  1. sara March 10, 2012 at 6:08 pm #


  2. mike attinson March 10, 2012 at 7:40 pm #

    Pam, what a wonderful post! And Martin, when you finish cleaning your garden I have got some work for you in mine.

    • fiona kaufman March 10, 2012 at 8:42 pm #

      and we pray it will be our place, as usual,(Turkey), the day after the seder..lots of love Pi and Fi

  3. Tracy Cohen March 11, 2012 at 1:31 am #

    Oh my darling, how I wish I could be physically closer to just be there for you too.


  4. Felicity March 11, 2012 at 4:30 pm #

    you said it so beautifully.


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