Home » Family » Don’t Fence Me In – Friday Fictioneers

Don’t Fence Me In – Friday Fictioneers

‘Tis a beautiful Wednesday.  Sun is shining but still bitterly cold.  Spring, eh?  Riiiiight….

So, what better to bring our spirits up than to participate in Friday Fictioneers!  This lovely image was provided by J.Hardy Carroll and chosen by our hostess with the mostest, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  What does this picture make you think of?  Why not share that in 1oo words by clicking on the Blue Frog below and adding your version?

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Genre:  Fiction (ish)

Word count:  ALWAYS 100

Don’t Fence Me In

I need wide open spaces.

You can’t get around alone anymore.

So.  I still need to breathe.

So do I.  And I can’t here.

This is my home. I don’t want to leave it!

It was our home.  We have no choice.  We can no longer handle it alone.

I can’t even decide for myself now?  Have I no say?

Yes, you can decide to stay.  I, however, will not.  I’m tired.  I miss my family, who want to help us.

Tears in his eyes, his good side slumped to the now-defunct side.  I know, It’s what we must do.

 

101 thoughts on “Don’t Fence Me In – Friday Fictioneers

  1. Dear Dale,

    I dread the day when I might not be able to do everything for myself or might have to be a caregiver. You’ve captured the feelings on both sides of the fence. Well done.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

  2. So sad, Dale. But it comes to most of us. All we can hope is that we can move onto the next stage in our life with cheerfulness and not too much regret. Nicely done Dale

  3. Lost of independence is a terrible thing. And as you story suggests, not just for the one who feels restricted. The one that must do the restricting, the caring… suffers just as much, in a different way of course. I hope that when my time comes, there is balance… for everyone involved.

    • I hear you, Magaly! We all want to enter our Golden Years, still standing upright and capable but sadly, not all of us can. It is so hard on all involved.

  4. If we live long enough, it will happen to all of us. My mother was living home alone. She fell and we had to take her to the emergency room. This started a chain of events and she never set foot inside her house again. To this day, that still breaks my heart.

    I’ll probably just lose my mind first and won’t know the difference. Some folks would say I’m halfway there now. 🙂

    • It is definitely a good possibility. My friend’s parents are 93 and 91 and are, amazingly, still living on their own. But let’s face it, that is an anomaly!
      As for losing your mind… easier on you, for sure… it’s all around you that suffer

  5. Definite sadness here. Here’s a couple things I sense in the story … 1) someone elderly or disabled so they can’t do what they once could …. 2) someone who has lost someone. … 3) or a combination of the two.

  6. Every one of us wants to die healthy — preferably in our sleep — preferably without being woke up.

    Good and realistic story. Have you read The Blue Hydrangea? Great book about a husband who must make this decision when he can no longer care for his wife at home.

  7. Such a sad theme. It reminded me of my friend’s grandparents, who, when they could no longer live independently, had to be separated into two different homes because one had dementia. How great was the loss for the more able-bodied one – his home and his wife at one stroke. Neither of them lived long after that. Well done, Dale for making us reflect with a little more thankfulness on our own lot.

    • How awful to have to be separated at the end of their lifetime. And of course, more so for the husband. Oh man…I’m not surprised they didn’t live long after that.
      Thank you, Sandra

  8. Thought provoking piece, Dale, well done.
    I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my father did, and not screaming in terror like the passengers on his bus.

    • It is so hard when they are too far for us to be able to assist. I am so glad mine are moving close to us. Or like my sister said: This is a good thing, right? Knowing we now cannot BUT help!

  9. I wouldn’t deal easily with being in a care home, having others see to my needs, not able to make daily choices about what to eat, what to watch on television, etc. In some ways, to go suddenly is the less scary option, on the other hand, maybe it gets to the stage where people in decline are more ready to have others make their daily choices. The most difficult time is probably the transitional stage, when they fight against the inevitable: where the fear of relinquishing control, is worse than the actuality. I’ve known many people who have needed a great deal of persuading to give up their homes and move to somewhere smaller, where help is nearer at hand, but, mostly, they’ve been glad after it has happened.

      • I’m sure he’ll come round, with plenty of love and encouragement shown him. The main thing, is to allow him as much independence as feasible within the confines of his new situation. I think as long as people are still allowed to make some daily choices, however small, all should be well. It takes time for any of us to settle in a new home and neighbourhood, but to have to uproot at that age must be so hard. He will settle, you’ll see. xox

  10. This was sad. It made me think of the active seniors in my life, their pride in their freedom, yet knowing that it is not guaranteed. Still, being around people who love them and want to help is a big blessing.

  11. Sadly you illustrate now poor today’s society handles people with severe infirmity. We call them bed blockers! 😢

  12. Speaks to the inner voice in all of our heads.
    Sad story with a thought provoking twist at the end.

    – Lisa

  13. Such a sad truth that no one wants to think about. And you captured it beautifully. As I deal with the changes that evolve with my aging parents, this one hits close to home.

  14. That is such a beautiful story Dale. It really resonated – my grandparents lived in a beautiful old rambling house in the English countryside (not as big as the one in the picture!!) and they had so many conversations like this – that wrench to leave a place that is part of who you are. Lovely.

    • It starts with our grand-parents, then our parents and… gulp, eventually us! I’m at the parents stage. Thankfully we are three sisters with brothers-in-law and 8 kids in total to help out!
      Thank you, Stephanie.

  15. Since I live in Florida, I’ve seen this happen often. It’s an overwhelming feeling for all involved. The caretakers are sad to have to treat their parents like the child and make decisions for them. The parent depressively overhwlemed by their lives taken away. There are no winners. I’d like to think that I am strong and will be OK with leaving my home. Yet, I know the loss of freedom will be difficult.
    GOSH … this is a great story, Dale. You’ve touched a nerve that no one wants to feel. Well …. maybe, it’s me. I’ll be 70 in July. I’m mobile and in fair health. But, I do think about this from time to time.
    Next time … a happy story … OK.
    Have a super weekend. 😍 Cheers 🍷
    Isadora 😎

        • I know that, darlin’! And besides… who knows what Rochelle has in store for us next week! I canna make any promises…
          You too! I’m off to bowl with my family for my niece’s volleyball team!

  16. Oh yes, that time comes to all of us. It hits home a bit more than usual since both, the SO’s and my parents didn’t have any plans at all for losing their independence. Plan ahead, people, is all I can say. Your kids will thank you.

  17. Pingback: #WeekendCoffeeShare – Spring Walk, Paperwork, Breakfasts & More Snow? | A Dalectable Life

  18. A tough time for all involved. On the same day that my mother died suddenly and peacefully in her sleep, my friend’s mother suffered a stroke. She had been a nurse and a stroke was the thing she feared the most. She never recovered her speech, talked a lot of gibberish that clearly made perfect sense to her. Her frustration was heart-breaking to watch. It made me feel very grateful that my mother went so peacefully

    • So sorry for you and for your mother’s friend. At least your mother is at peace. In our case, my step-father never lost his speech nor his memory but his whole left side is paralyzed (it amazes me that he can actually walk – better and better but there will be a limit)

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