Wednesday, 14 January 2015
Responsibility At Last (Oh, Good)
I am selfish and irresponsible. No one who knows me would be able dispute this with a straight face. But it has been fine, simply because no one else is effected by any consequences and I myself can handle my own life perfectly fine. I have been able to afford to be irresponsible, and have enjoyed it a great deal.
Imagine my joy in realising this has changed.
Putting aside my own feelings about the recent sudden death of my father, the consequence is that my mother needs someone to look out for her and look after her. And that would be me. I am quietly horrified to realise that it is I who must be responsible. Someone has to be. No one else is available. Including, sad to say, my mother.
Over the next couple of months I am going to be working to fix a long term sustainable situation for my mother, one that includes me being right there to look out for her. It's certainly something I can make happen, and I will. But transition periods are always tricky, as I'm sure most of you know full well. They bring added expense and stress, which stress and expense I'm going to try and keep all for myself.
I might need a little assist with that. Here's what I would like you to do, if you feel so inclined. Pick a book of mine that you like, or think you might like, and give it a little simple promotion. A facebook post, tweet or whatever seems easiest for you. A quite small sales boost over the next couple of months would make a surprisingly large difference in helping me keep this change stress free, which is why I am asking for the help.
My dad, bless him, would probably not approve of my asking for help. He never asked anyone for help, despite childhood illnesses that left him physically disabled for life; the medics at the time were surprised he lived and told him flat out that he would never walk on the makeshift version of a hip they had managed to cobble together with bone grafts and pins. He did walk, being determined and stubborn and content to accept the pain involved. He worked physically demanding jobs for most of his life (one shoulder joint was also a cosmetic fix that didn't work at first, and never worked perfectly). He was quite extraordinary man, really. In the last couple of years he would sometimes, if I asked if I might "have a go" at what he was struggling with, grudgingly pass me the hammer or whatever and say "I suppose you could, if you like." I loved him and will miss him.