TheBanyanTree: Life goes on in its customary stages

[PJMoney]

My parents bought the house in Anthony Street in 1972.  Mum was very pleased
with the suburban bungalow because it was a newish 3 bedroom brick veneer
with a tiled roof, indoor dunny and double garage.  It was the best home
she'd had since returning to Australia from Borneo in 1957.  

I didn't see the house for a few months because I was in Chile at the time
and had to get shot of my husband while retaining custody of my son before I
could go home.  But once all that was accomplished the boy and I came back
and moved into the back bedroom where we stayed until we were allocated a
Housing Commission flat in town.  After that it was regular weekend visits
or, following my remarriage, alternate weekend visits, until we moved north
in 95.

The first thing changed in the house was the paint on the walls.  Whoever
had owned it previously had used some sort of stencil to create a very ugly
wall paper effect.  Helping to cover that up was one of the jobs I had when
I lived there.  Next, the kitchen was renovated.  

When the brick fence at the front fell over (partly because of the clay soil
and partly because people would sit on it while they waited for the bus)
they had it removed and the front garden landscaped.  Then they had a
sunroom built on to the back of the house to get rid of the steep back
stairs and enclose the access into the laundry.  That room, particularly,
reminds me of my father.  The sun lounge, where I used to regularly find him
snoozing, is still there.  

Lastly, after a few years of thinking about it, they renovated the bathroom.
Not long afterwards my father went into hospital for an operation and died
of it.  That was 18 years ago last August 10th. 

Since then the only thing that has changed (apart from the garden where my
mother loves to play) has been the side fence.  It was falling apart for so
long that I can't remember what it looked like when it wasn't falling apart.
There were three neighbours involved so negotiations were difficult and, for
a while, seemed impossible.  One of them steadfastly refused to ante-up for
the cost.  But that bloke died last year, his heirs weren't so recalcitrant
and, as a result, the fence got replaced earlier this year.  I checked it
out on Google street view and agree with my mother that it's a great
improvement on the old one.  

So many comings and goings.  So many Christmases, Mothers Days, Fathers
Days, birthdays and other get-togethers.  Thirty six years' worth of them.  

My mother takes a long time to decide on things.  She's been talking about
thinking about moving into more suitable accommodation for at least the last
ten years.  But she hasn't been ready to move into a place for old people.
Why would she?  One of her jobs at church is to make the morning tea for the
mid-week Communion Service for the old people.  They're obviously very old
and need help, but she's not even though she's going to be 82 next month.

When she visited in June I noticed some changes in her that caused me some
concern.  She took a week to learn how to use our very simple, two dial
microwave and never learned how to use the remote to change the TV channel.
Once I found her in the hall, staring at the wall and wondering where the
door to her bedroom was.  Worst of all, she confessed to having lost
interest in doing crossword puzzles.  

So when she started talking about thinking about what she should do
regarding moving out of her home I suggested that maybe she had left it a
bit late; maybe she should stay where she was because she was familiar with
her surroundings there and had a circle of friends there.  If she moved
elsewhere she might find it difficult to make new friends and find her way
around her new location.

I had a phone call from my brother last week.  He told me that Mum has
bought a 2 bedroom, single story villa close to my sister's home in
Wollongong.  Mum is happy because the house has a big walk-in wardrobe in
the main bedroom, an airconditioner in the lounge room, a nice galley
kitchen and no lawn to mow, but it does have a little plot out the front
where she can grow flowers.

So that means that soon Mum will be selling the old family home.  Indeed,
the emptying out of the garage and of the under-the-house is already going
on care of my brother and his three strapping sons.  My brother has found
things he's been looking for for years and things he'd forgotten all about
but is glad now to remember, such as Dad's old 78 of Duke Ellington's
"Creole Love Call".  I remember that record, and the music, very well.

The thing I will miss most about never being able to visit that house again
will be the loss of the connection with my father that I always feel there.
The thing that worries me the most is that Mum will wake up alone in her new
house, not know where she is and panic.

Janice