Small lists, happy days

Families: The importance of writing and remembering ...

My dad hasn’t been well lately. He’s 82 and has just returned home from a short stay and a heart operation at Derriford Hospital in Devon, where a wonderful nurse called Joy was on the team looking after him. She more than lived up to her name.

When I went to visit Dad he was patiently jolly. No one wants to be in hospital and the most asked question at the nurses’ desk is ‘when can I/she/he go home?’. These wards are transient spaces filled with all human emotions. You pick an emotion to get you through your time there, we always pick humour in our family. We’ve been on this ward before; we know the drill.

It’s deliberately quiet in a cardiac hospital room so Dad and I whispered across the bed. We talked of podcasts (he’s finally got a smart phone), books, his five grandchildren and one great grandchild. And of chocolate and dogs: he is a huge fan of both.

My dad is a former policeman and he also unexpectedly chatted about his job too, remembering the three times he’d had to resuscitate strangers on the job. “I saved two but not the third,” he said sadly. He reminisced quietly, telling a few stories I had heard before and some that were new. It was a lovely listening to him.

You never think anything is going to happen to your parents do you, even when you reach your mid 50s like me. Some of us tiptoe round the idea they may not always be here until it firmly tugs at our sleeves to remind us time is running out for everyone.

It struck me that what I really wanted to say to my dad was thank you; thank you for all the lovely times but that would have been an emotional conversation over the bed in hospital, we’re a bit too ‘stiff upper lip’ for that.

So on the train home to London afterwards I wrote some thank you’s down. It was cathartic and made me look forward to the future. I highly recommend it, in fact there is much science around the benefits of writing down your thoughts of gratitude for life’s special moments, for looking back on the ups and not the downs. I’m sharing my list here in case you need to write a loved-one list too, it may be a starting point for you.

Families are complicated, they don’t always work well, some are fractured beyond repair and some potter along with only minor wobbles, they are all a learning curve for us as people and remembering the better times feels useful in the more significant moments of family life. And such a list is a good reminder to keep on hand during times when family relationships don’t flow so smoothly.

When we interviewed Jane Calder CEO of Age UK on our podcast Postcards From Midlife she talked about taking a purposeful approach to discussing the past with elderly relatives, with parents. She had cared for her mum who had Alzheimer’s and recommended that we ask our parents as much as we can about their past. She advised creating a book of things your parents likes and dislikes too so that if they ever need to be cared for by those who don’t know them it’s a guide to the life they have led (it meant her mum didn’t have to listen to the jazz music the staff at the home would play her, jazz was a form of torture for Jane’s mum!). My list feels a little like that in a small way, it kept all the parts of my Dad forefront of my mind so I can remember him well during our absences from each other.

And one of the most important things I have learnt from the many family therapy experts I interviewed for my book on parenting teenagers is the importance of simple rituals in families, the grounding and calming influence regular and consistent daily habits have in a family unit. My list of thank yous is really a tribute to the simplicity and normality of those ordinary family moments. I found writing it helpful as I tussled with the emotional aftermath of saying goodbye to my dad on the ward the day I visited.

The List: Thank you for….

Picking blackberries with me on ‘the magic lane’ (as we called it) when I was little

Sitting on the hill behind our house at night looking at the stars (Dad is a huge fan of astronomy, not to be confused with astrology which he is not a fan of).

Teaching me to ride a bike (he deserves a long service medal for this. It took years.)

Beach combing and cliff climbing with me along the Cornish bays of Seaton, Polzeath, Downderry, Daymer and Harlyn through the summer holidays.

Mushroom collecting with me at dawn on Bodmin moor (I am surprised we are both still alive frankly!)

Teaching me to drive: an exercise in extreme patience.

Taking me swimming on the back of your motorbike on Sunday mornings.

Collecting me from the edge of the road all the times I fell off my moped when it went over a cattle grid.

Sharing cheap Turkish delight with me; a sweet no one else can eat as much of us we can.

Patiently doing my maths homework alongside me in the face of great resistance and many furious tears.

Removing the larger spiders from bedrooms

Driving me to London from Cornwall the day I left home in our Fiat 127

Giving me away at my wedding in Trebetherick

There is of course so much more to thank my dad for but in the spur of the moment on the train home this is as far as I got, I’ll be adding to it as I go along. I’d love to hear your memories too, leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Postcards From Midlife podcast Listen to Jane Caldwell of Age UK here.