What on earth does this picture have to do with difficult decisions? Because it comes under the list of 'Something's got to go'. A positive army is working on keeping me emotionally, mentally and physically healthy, made up of family, friends, doctors, nurses and psychiatrists. Most of my problems would be solved by money, but with my first house unsold, I am in a fix. Many people who posted to my blog 'When is a house a home' were in the invidious position of sorting out divorce – which counts with bereavement and house moving as the top stress reasons.
All three present hard and also emotional decisions. Where to live? (We are asked, if one of us dies, would the other return to UK and family? Love family, but No.) Money is paramount with divorce, the cost of re-housing mind-bending (many people now living in our area are only here because they could afford a property after divorce). And I've watched, personally, grandchildren commuting between separated parents – they all coped, and thrived, not always the case. I could write a book on watching our peer group 'down-sizing'.
They have dogs, so must stay with the garden. The dogs die, and sentimentality prevails over sense. If you have a big house, with lovely family furniture, the tug of parting with furniture can be as bad as the bereavement – so many memories. The garden's too big, you can't do it yourself, can't afford (or even find) a gardener, so you nag the family, who live 300 miles away and hate gardening anyway. My tall sons DO cut hedges – but possibly through blackmail – I will fall off the ladder or cut the flex of the hedge-cutter. (The pharmacist's son did just that).
So, back to the picture and my own particular decision making. My mother, who lived to nearly a 100, dying in 2001 (10 years after we moved to France) stayed with us a lot, attending all family gatherings, and spent 18 months with our eldest son and wife (everlastingly grateful) before moving into an excellent home. Every time I started preparations, every time, she would say 'It's a lot of work', and 'What do you want to make all the fuss for'. 'Because I like it, Mummy, and I love receiving and pleasing guests'.
So, gardening and a beautifully laid table and well-presented food are still important in my life, and I will hang on, grimly. The latest visiting son noted that the house was none too clean. He suggested that he and his brothers would club together to pay for a 'one off' professional cleaner. If they should be willing to subsidize their Mum, I will accept three days in a hotel with a swimming pool, a beach to walk along, not having to get up at 7.30 every morning, and, thus rejuvenated, I will do my own housework!
Those who are in the thick of moving, and for those for whom it is just a bad dream, what would you keep, or give up?
A Moodscope member.
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