Time to move on

It has been about 4 weeks since my sister died and I guess it’s not surprising that the event has led to some serious navel-gazing. She was the last of my six brothers and sisters. I’m the last (wo)man standing, so to speak and most of my life is behind me, glimpses in a rearview mirror.

My sister was a very private, independent person. She never married and lived alone for decades, secure in her own company. And that’s wonderful – until it isn’t.

After many years in suburbia in Perth she moved to Victoria where she finally found the solitude she craved. She lived in a house surrounded by a hectare of bush, private and secluded just the way she liked it, about 12km from the nearest tiny town and about 20km from the larger town of Bacchus Marsh. The drive into town is about 20 minutes, not that much really, but you have to have a car. When we visited her last year she was becoming frail, but she was as feisty as ever, smart and caustic. But time was ticking and when you’re 87 and you have emphysema…

That was when I started to look around me. We live in a small town that is rapidly becoming larger as folks flee from Sydney and Melbourne. Here, we’re 5 minutes from the beach, the hospital, the shops, the doctor, and there’s an enormous Bunnings (hardware store) – everything an elderly couple could want. But we live on an acre. That has been nice for quite a few years. We’re not cheek-by-jowl with the neighbours and we enjoy the garden and the wild birds. As each year goes by, though, we’re finding it harder. We can still do everything but it takes a little longer and the joy has gone. What used to be a (sweaty) pleasure is becoming a chore. I thought about my sister in her little house in the woods and decided I didn’t want to be like that, isolated and too proud to admit we couldn’t cope.

When we actually went to her property to tidy the house and work through her belongings it was abundantly clear she hadn’t been coping for years. She received a home care package but the people who grudgingly came out to her house to do an hour’s work a fortnight didn’t do much.

Peter and I looked at each other and saw the future looking back at us. It’s time to move on. So, we’re preparing our house for sale with the intent of moving into a much smaller property but still in Hervey Bay. We’ll consider a large apartment (we both need our space) or a largish house on a small block. In fact, we were already preparing our place when the time came to drop everything and go to Victoria. After a bit of manual labour, we’re ready to talk to the real estate agents.

There are things I’ll miss, of course. But then, when we moved from Victoria to Hervey Bay we left behind a truly magnificent garden. People asked how I could bear to leave – but there comes a time and I can honestly say we had no regrets. I’m sure it will be the same this time.

A misty morning
Last rays of the sun
Plenty of room to kick a footy
The swimming pool. We won’t miss the maintenance.

And of course, my little rowdy mates

But there are plenty of them all over the town

Meanwhile, on my other blog I shared some thoughts about what happens when you finish writing a book and publish it. Professor Tolkien had some ideas about that, too.

2 thoughts on “Time to move on

  1. I have an elderly close friend nearby who is in a small two-bed. She had a dog, who passed on nearly a year ago. Since then, she’s gone downhill health-wise. She has similarly come to realise that she needs to be in a safer environment. She loves to walk, but it doesn’t work very well when one has to cross busy roads and cannot see very well. When there are uneven pavements that one can easily trip and fall onto. She’s also a gardener who adores being outdoors. She will move into an apartment in sheltered accommodation – no garden, no animals, but ability to walk in a safe space, and also ability to call for help easily if needed – at the end of this month. And is welcoming the change, because she too realises it is time to be sensible.

    All the best to you both. I hope that you will find a good property that will serve you both well, and be easier to manage.

    Even at my tender young age, it isn’t easy to comprehend the onward march of time, and I doubt it gets easier. But being realistic is always best, and safest.

    1. Yes, age comes to all of us. If we’re lucky. I feel privileged to have made it this far – a lot of members of my family didn’t. Being realistic is the most sensible approach.

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