Its a crime to get old.

Those words in the title were said to me by my wonderful mother after my father died. Her own mother, my beloved grandmother, had also died, so two of the most important people in her life had gone. Of course there was my brother and myself, and our children, but in reality, as I now realise, it was poor compensation for her loss.

Those words often come back to me now for a variety of reasons, mum had many ailments, and with each day it was a battle just to keep going with her daily life, bereft of the companions she cherished. I visited, solo and with my family and my brother also visited, but with hindsight after we had gone mum was left alone in her apartment. Alone in the quite with just the TV for company.

It was suggested she come to live with us, but she didn’t want that, or did she? Maybe those words meant exactly that and I hadn’t realised at the time and maybe that is why ‘Its a crime to get old’ keeps on coming back to me now. Those words will live with me until the day I die, maybe I’m saying they will haunt me I’m not sure, whatever it is I understand now what she meant with more clarity and I’m saddened. 


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