I see very little and I wonder where am I? Sometimes I fail to recognise familiar figures. I have a very short memory but I remember my family discussing of taking me into a care home. I vehemently objected to the idea for I loved my beautiful home. My beautiful home that I worked for and turned into a real home. My beautiful home was a paradise to me. I cherished every moment of my life in that home. My home was the pride of my heart. Surplus savoury and scrumptious food that I tendered with care and shared with my beloved ones. My evergreen garden was the envy of my neighbours. How could I leave my home for care?
My dreams were to die and be buried beneath my roof in a home that I loved. But sometimes life is so unfair, so unfair that I cannot hold back what I cherished for years. I am left distorted and shunned. I never dreamed of being in a care home, although its purposes are good. Day in day and day out you would find me loitering around in the long passage halls, holding my comforter doll, Barn, in my fragile hands. I spoke to him softly and sometimes I do shout loudly. There is sporadic anger that spills out of me and pushes me to fight. To fight anybody that comes my way. To those who know me they tell me to calm down. They use every useful technique to distract me but my story does not end here. Sometimes I have told people that my mummy loves me.
I have always asked people: Do you know where my mummy is? When is she coming to take me home? Sometimes I have told people that my mummy was with me, and that we went to McDonalds together. I have always seen people looking at me with strange eyes and I wondered why? But when Terry, my friend comes to see me he spoke of mummy in the past and it bewildered me. I have called for my mummy everyday for I feel vulnerable. “Angela, your mummy passed away a long time ago,” said Terry. “No she didn’t”, I will respond. Terry shook his head. Sorry Angela, that’s all what he could say.
But there are other people who visits me and they call me mummy and I do not understand it. I can’t remember having children. But these people they tell me you are our real mother who bore us and we share the same blood. I nod my head, I remember you Nicola and David my little twins. How would I have forgotten you? They introduced me mummy here are your grand children Chris and Carol. The two children smiled back with smiles that light up a room. The children cuddled me all day long. “Nanny we love you”. “I love you too!”
“I want to come home,” I cried. “No mummy you can’t. Nobody will look after you? We have our lives. This is now your home.” I looked at them with pleading eyes but no one hears my plea. “Mummy we are going we will see you next week.” Slowly I saw the door closed. Leaving me in my own solitary world. Where I see things moving that nobody could see it. Inwardly I cried for many things that I have lost, that I have lost when I moved into a care home. If anything was going to be reversible. I would cry for my childhood and remain young forever. I would never lose my home and my dignity.
