It is still technically The Weekend and I hope that you have been having a great one.
I started to write this post on Friday night, infact I had written well over a 1000 words when calamity struck and I managed to hit a key on the laptop and lost virtually the whole text and the autosave saved the arsed up draft. Did I curse, hell yeah I did, and then some evil bleeper who shall remain nameless Galen showed me a picture of his breakfast that he was about to tuck into, did I mention evil already馃ぃ!
However, I decided to regurgitate the post albeit in a shorter format as I wanted to join in the [WE103] Weekend-Engagement concept from 
Upon reflection, this is a double whammy of a post in more ways than one, as I realised that it falls under two concept options, namely
Laugh and cry
and
Love and loss
I could have talked about luck and how my mother called me Lucky Eddie and how we make our own luck, but I decided after seeing an onbect that I saw on a walk on Friday to tackle a deeper subject for this post.
My father always prided himself on hosting shindigs or flipping big parties and the party to celebrate the 21st birthday of my Scottish niece in March 2011 was to be no exception.
By way of an example of his extravagence for parties, for his 65th birthday he hired an executive coach and whisked away family and friends on a weekend tour of Scottish whisky distilleries. A wild weekend it was, and the distilleries sold a hell of a lot of whisky cases to drunk old codgers馃ぃ
For his granddaughter he had booked a big ballroom in Aberdeen, Scotland where they lived, he had bands all booked, had the catering arranged, the whole shebang it was going to me a big affair for his favourite granddaughter.
They doted on each other.
Unfortunately, he was not well and was admitted to hospital in February and passed way a couple days before my nieces birthday. Her party was due to be held on the Saturday just after her birthday.
My mother was a type 1 diabetic and had been for most of her life. She had early onset vascular dementia as a result of this diabetes. Being the oldest sibling, it fell to me to organise the funeral for my father.
On the night he passed away he instructed me to take care of mother and the family and above all to ensure that the party went ahead as he had planned.
Of course, people were thinking it should be called off. Bollocks to that, I am even more stubborn than he was, and in between arranging the funeral I finalised all the details for the party. The party went ahead on the Saturday and we had his funeral on the Monday.
I don't know if you have had any experience of loved ones having a form of dementia, but it is truly heartbreaking. I feel for absolutely anyone who has to deal with this.
Obviously my mother was heartbroken. Once she had dementia we had to hide her insulin. She needed to be injected with insulin, but once I had seen her doing it at three in the morning, when we had injected her earlier. So for own good the insulin had to be hidden in a small fridge that she could not get to.
The day after my father passed away, she asked where father was. I said that he had passed away the day before. It was heartbreaking and it was as if she was hearing this news for the first time.
This happened a few more times, so I contacted the doctor's practice and asked for their advice. Was I harming her by telling her truth etc. Their advice was not very helpful, and I was told "well just do what you think is best".
Thanks for nothing I thought.
Whenever she asked where he was, we would tell her that he was out with the dog, or gone shopping etc. This would be fine for a little while until she asked again. One time I said oh he is out walking Charlie (Charlie being their wee black and white Cocker Spaniel). Charlie however was on mothers lap, oops cover blown. Well I still think it was kinder telling white lies to her than putting her through a grief process time and time again!
I digress too much, back to my fathers funeral. Mother wanted a big affair for the only man she had her loved and wanted a horse drawn carriage to carry his coffin just like the one her father had been carried on.
I did have power of attorney and could have ignored my mothers wishes but choose not to.
On the day of the funeral, she asked why she was having to put on her best clothes. Dad passed away Mum, so come on let's give him a sendoff was the reply I used on more than once occasion that morning. This would happen approximately every thirty minutes, so it was a long morning as you can imagine.
The undertakers arrived and we had to have police to stop the traffic etc. The limousines arrived and we managed to get mother into the car.
Where's your father, isn't he coming? was what she said to me as the door was closed.
I don't do emotions and can count the number of times I have cried on the fingers of one hand, but I was struggling that day I can tell you.
It was two miles from our house to the crematorium.
The carriage was drawn by a white horse, with an undertaker walking the horse, so it took a while to get to the crematorium.
I am including this picture of a far off white horse that I saw on Friday whilst I was out walking in the woods and have taken it as a sign to write this post.
So here we are, my mother with her sister, myself and my wife, my brother and sister plus two grandchildren all in the lead limo behind the horse drawn carriage carrying my father's coffin.
We were all talking trying to occupy my mother's mind.
Then she said "Whose funeral are we going to?"
I replied "Dad's"
At this point the only two who were not crying were mother and me.
She then said (and I am laughing while typing this) "Oh well he would have loved all this pomp with the white horse and carriage!"
I just burst into laughter and hugged her, and she joined in the laughter. Then between laughs she asks what we are we laughing at!
A laugh or cry moment that I will never forget.
It was an emotional and stressful day as there were so many people there who did not know about her dementia and I had to field a zillion questions and veer people away from her.
It was also a poignant day, as that was the day in my heart I buried both my parents. The dementia had taken its toll, the body of mother was still there physically but she had departed earth long ago.
My siblings and I took turns staying with her to look after her. This happened in March 2011.
Five months later I was down in Edinburgh at a hospital appointment when I got a call from my sister. Our mother had passed away during the night. The doctor said she had suffered heart failure, but we both agreed she died of a broken heart.
Losing both my parents within the space of five months really was a double whammy!
If you have read this, then thank you so very much. If you have anyone close with dementia and you need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen, please feel free to message me as I know what you are going through.
Enjoy the now, life is short, so do what you love and do it often.
As mentioned previously, the picture of the white horse was taken by me on May 27th 2022 in Kirkcaldy, the Kingdom of Fife, Scotland.
