Growing up, I rarely did the washing up. Neither did my sister. It wasn’t because we were idle so-an-sos or because we were forbidden to do it. It wasn’t an issue. It was something Mum and Dad did together.
It was only after my mother died, my father explained it was their daily opportunity for private conversation. One would wash and the other dry. What did they discuss? Who knows?
We all benefitted I’m sure, because their relationship flourished. Their relationship was the important one. Somehow their love for each other was expressed through their love for us. These were the hidden workings of a good family life.
Maybe there was a downside though. My mother died of cancer over a couple of years. We were not encouraged to be involved. I remember the last time I kissed my mother. My rucksack slipped off my shoulder and she laughed. I went to the station and never saw her again.
Early on she had an operation. My sister and I clubbed together and paid for both parents to spend a week at the alternative cancer place in Bristol, this was their last holiday together. I think they both benefitted. My mother wanted to experiment with their almost vegan diet, maybe because it cured my father’s constipation.
My father told me of the last time he saw her. She was in hospital. When it was time for him to leave, she said “Remember what I’ve told you.” He understood her. You might think she meant, I love you.
Maybe what she really meant was: look after yourself, don’t forget all the instructions I gave you.
Maybe what this really meant was: I love you.
Thereafter my father always set the table, on his own usually, for 15 years.
Washing up, setting the table, all the routine business of living – these are the things through which we are consistently rewarded.
My father was drawn to Zen: “I chopped wood and drew water, then I achieved enlightenment and now I chop wood and draw water.”
Day 2/21 of my writing challenge. Every weekday, I publish a short piece of writing on my subject of solitude. The writings are based on a prompt from Megan Macedo, who leads the challenge. These are all first drafts with minimal revision. Please comment if you find these posts helpful. Previous story: Chocolate Cake. Next: Whited Sepulchre.