Today

Yesterday Paul's aunt died. She must have been 90 and has spent the last 30 years of her life in an old folk's home, gradually slipping from slightly potty to non-compos. While Paul's Mum was able, she did visit her weekly and took care of many things. Latterly Paul and his sister had taken Mum to visit her and Paul's nephew and cousin occasionally saw her. Her own children, granchildren and great-grandchildren? Not been near her in at least 20 years.

So, I guess, since Mum's death, she'd probably not seen a soul from her family, except possibly our lovely nephew. It makes you wonder about the point of living; about the possibility of dying, not only alone, but without the knowledge that a single other soul loves you.

The funeral will probably make an uncomfortable contrast to Mum's, where the little chapel was full and we'd chosen hymns Mum liked and Becky read her favourite poem and the reverend had known her personally and was able to say some lovely things about her life.

In My Day

I saw many such lonely ends to life when I worked on the old people's homes, first as a student, then as a proper job. My summer job was at Orchard House in Annerly (now, I'm told, a young offenders' unit), which, while being run along workhouse lines, did have the merit of being very communal, with dormitories and dining rooms. This meant that the old geezers did have a lot of company of their own sort even if they never saw a relation.

At the second place, the D'arcy in Hove, residents all had separate rooms and were served meals in their rooms also. There was no communal space. Some of them never saw anyone other than the nurses. I remember having a little time one day and simply taking one old lady to visit other residents who were on the same floor. She was delighted with this social experiment and talked about it for days. Another lady was actually having a visitor; we helped her into corsets and a decent dress and to put on a little makeup. How we were told off for wasting time by the staff nurse!

One old frail lady was just a ripple under the bedclothes; she received no visitors and was months dying, but the nurse who cared for her offered her love; carrying her in her arms and tenderly helping her to eat and drink.

In the end that's what we should all strive for - to nurture and hold the love that's offered you.