Dorset :: March 2024 (part 1)

Travelling from the north of England to visit my family in Dorset (south coast) is a 600 mile round journey I've made countless times since I left home as a teenager. I've lived in the north of England since my Manchester student days in the 80's, so I've experienced many decades of north-south-north travel and it's become a familiar part of my adult life.

Last year I made more Dorset trips than ever before (seven? eight?) and without a doubt, each and every one of those visits was stressful and difficult. Most of you will know the story here - my Dorset visits last year were about caring for my Dad who has mid stage mixed dementia, and after a huge amount of worry and stress we were eventually able to move him into a care home in October. The last time I was in Dorset was in late October, a trip made with J so that we could sort out my Dad's house and prepare for it to be cleared and vacated. It was an emotional end to forty five years of attachment to the home where I grew up through my teenage years and then stayed as an adult with my own family.

So I had high hopes for this latest trip to Dorset - I wanted it to be a fresh start of sorts, a way to revisit a much loved and familiar place without feeling the constant weight of worry or stress. I wanted my days spent there to regain something of a light and happy feel, and to start to heal from the past few years which have been so emotionally hard.

Two things were different about this latest visit to Dorset. Number one, I chose to stay somewhere new, deciding on Weymouth which is a seaside resort twenty miles along the coast from where I grew up and call home. I wanted to be near the sea, take early morning walks on the beach and feel like I was on holiday while still being close enough to my Dad's care home for easy visiting.

Number two, I wasn't on my own this visit, but travelling and holidaying with a close friend who also has family connections in Dorset. It's a totally different vibe travelling with a friend - lets just say she has a lively, outgoing personality (the opposite to my quiet, introverted one), and the train journey was chatty and we drank prosecco out of plastic cups - say no more!

We stayed our first night in a small and very lovely guest house, but for the next three nights we had booked a holiday apartment with views out over the harbour. That first morning by the sea was absolutely beautiful, as if I had placed an order and had it delivered especially. The bluest of skies and bright, bright sunlight, the sort of high-grade light that you only get beside the sea on a sunshiny day. 

We took a slow, ambling stroll all along the central beach at Weymouth, heading east over the sands and then onto the smaller pebbly beach which is backed by pretty pastel painted guest houses and cute beach huts. 

It was so nice just pottering along the shoreline chatting to my friend, stopping often to pick up shells and take in the coastal scenery. 

By the time we walked back to the main sandy beach the morning was moving on (the time stamp on the above photo reads exactly 11:11, don't you love it when those numbers all line up for a moment in time?)

We had a train to catch, so we took a quick stroll around the harbour and then off to the train station in town. I was going to see my Dad, and the train made it very easy for me with a quick eleven minute journey and then a very short walk. The visit was short (I'll tell you more at the end of this post I think) and I came out of the care home feeling a bit deflated, so it was a good feeling to be able to get back on the train, shake off the low mood and know that I was heading to the calming influence of the sea.

We checked into our apartment in the late afternoon and it was absolutely perfect. Warm, homely and spotlessly clean with large windows in all the rooms facing out to the harbour. It was too cold to make use of the balcony, but I imagine in summertime that this little outside space gets a lot of use from visiting guests.

My friend was a life long knitter until I brought her over to the bright side and introduced her to the hook fourteen years ago. She's been crocheting ever since and is currently making the Sungold blanket. I have to say we were both very content to spend time in the apartment watching the boats coming and going  while adding rows/rounds to our Sungold projects. Crochet is such a beautiful way to spend relaxing time, I adore it for that.

Can you see on the table in the above photo there is a platter? I wanted to show it to you......

....isn't it stunning? It's made by an artist called Margaret Johnson and we saw lots of her work displayed in a gorgeous little gallery on the other side of the harbour. I loved that the apartment showcased original art work on the walls too, and it was great to be able to see more work in the gallery (Cove Gallery, if you are ever in the area, they were very friendly and welcoming in there, and had so many gorgeous things, all with a coastal theme).

Saturday morning and after a really solid nights sleep we woke up to a lovely cold, blustery, bright, fresh day. My friend and I both had our own plans for Saturday, each of us visiting our Dads. It's a strange co-incidence that we became fast friends in Yorkshire and later on found out that we shared a connection to this part of Dorset. Her Dad lives in Weymouth and she's spent many of her own family holidays here over the years, and now my Dad is only 8 miles down the road. So, a Dad-day for us both.......

.....but first.....c-o-f-f-e-eeeeeeeee. 

I picked this place out and what a bloomin' good choice it was too. It's a bikers café right on the side of the harbour, with sunny outside tables and stunning views. No, no, not the noisy bikes with roaring engines, but the silent new breed of electric pedal bikes that are all the rage these days. In my experience, where cyclists gather there is usually very good coffee and baked goods to be had, and this proved to be accurate in Weymouth. The coffee was outstanding and the views.....

.....well, they were outstanding too. Weymouth harbour is very, very picturesque, especially in this quiet part of the year when there is breathing space and no crowds. 

After my very good coffee, I walked through the centre of Weymouth town to go and track down the coastal bus. My plan was to journey along the coast to Bridport to meet with Lady B, take her out for brunch and then we were going to go together to spend a few hours in the afternoon with my Dad.

I LOVE travelling on this bus, it's called the Jurassic Coaster and sitting on the top deck gives an amazing view of the Dorset coast which I love so, so much. You can see in the above photo we are about to whizz past the turning to West Bexington, and you can see the caravan site above Chesil beach where we stayed last year.

It was lovely to see Lady B and our visit to my Dad was OK....I'll try and tell you a bit more about it at the end of this post, if the words will come. It's hard.

After saying my goodbyes, I once again hopped on the train and journeyed the eleven minutes along to the end of the line where the sea was waiting for me. What an absolute delight to be able to walk "home" along the beach and breathe in the calm of the sea.

Fishing boats were returning to the harbour after a day at sea...

....and the early evening light was ever so beautiful.

I can't tell you how wonderful it was to have this time at the coast, it really did help re-balance my soul at the beginning and end of each day.

So...my Dad. He is doing OK really, and surprisingly (given his difficult, stubborn temperament), he has settled pretty well into the care home life. He has aged considerably in the four months since my last visit, I think dementia has a way of slowly leaching away both body and mind and I thought that my Dad just seemed "less" in every way. He has lost weight, is very slow and wobbly, and generally just a lot of his character and spirit has vanished. He has never really been the chatty sort, but now he doesn't really like to speak much at all. He didn't know who I was, not one clue. Even when I told him my name and that we were family, he just didn't understand what that meant any more. I can't lie, it was dreadfully sad, but at the same time I think I did a lot of my heart felt emotional grieving last year and have now reached a place of quiet acceptance. He is safe (and for most of last year he really wasn't at all safe) and seems reasonably content, so I am thankful for that. 

I was so glad that my visit to Dorset this time was about more than just dealing with the effects of dementia. This area of the south coast where I grew up is still a place that brings me great peace and joy, and I really felt that in the days I spent there. I'll tell you about Sunday in my next post - it was such a GOOD day and I can't wait to share it with you.

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Comments

[Kimmy]

We went through the exact same thing with my Mom and also her identical twin sister who was like a second Mom to me. Mom died in 2015 and her twin died in 2020. One of their older sisters died of the same thing. Although they lived to 90, 95 and 97, it's a terrible way to go - not recognizing those closest to you. Their dementia was caused by mini strokes happening over time. Since I look a lot like my Mom, this is a fear of mine. Hoping that science and medicine will find a cure or preventive medicine soon. Hang in there. I know how tough it can be.

[قیمت میلگرد ساختمانی]

People travel for many reasons but I believe they travel mainly to experience new things – try new foods, meet new people, do something they’ve never done before. It is curious then to encounter people, mainly Americans, that seem to expect everything to be exactly the same as it is at home while they are traveling to new places.

[Ruthie]

Oh gosh, Lucy, your story touches my heart. I have been reading your blog for many years.
Someone above says dementia is the long goodbye and that is so true. My mum died 10 days ago after 8 years slow deterioration with dementia and a short 2 and a half day ill ness at the end. She was never confused, just terribly forgetful , and still knew me and my husband., which is a blessing. But she didn’t eat well, unless it was chocolate (!) and had lost so much weight.
Dementia is so so hard on family members. With her loss of hearing as well, life was hard, although she was resolutely cheerful in the last 18 months when she was in a care home. I can only say be gentle on yourself, you have done your very best for your dad, and as you say, he is safe and cared for.
I shall miss seeing my mum, but I missed the mum she had been anyway .
I’m so glad you had lovely times in Weymouth. Xxx

[Charlotte]

What a roller-coaster trip. Great that you had super weather, and your friend to share with. Dementia is such a cruel disease; I know what it's like, Lucy. Sending you love, C x

[Denise]

I have a photo of my mum's hands, taken not so long before she died. They are gnarly and nobbly, and reflective of a lifetime of caring for others. It is one of my most treasured photos of her, and was on the order of service for her funeral.
In the years to come I am sure that you will treasure the photo of your dad's hands on the same way.
My best to you as you navigate whatever the future brings.

[bennie]

I keep coming to your blog to read every post. Beautiful photos, beautiful words and heart warming stories. Hope your dad is all well and happy. Thanks for sharing your journey ❤️

[Maggie Huntone]

Your courage and strength in sharing your journey through this difficult time with your dad has touched your Attic community’s hearts and enabled them to share their own journeys, and I hope you all take comfort in the support you’re giving each other.

[Fiona McCarthy]

I relate very much to your situation. I live in Cumbria and my mother lives in a care home in Norfolk, also with mixed dementia. She was diagnosed at the end of 2018 and its been a very gradual decline if I'm honest. Until last summer and suddenly the dementia has taken hold of her physical health, not just her mental capacity. She was always incredibly loquacious but now she just has bursts when she is chatty. I call every day and its getting more and more difficult to time those calls right so that she talks. I visit for three days at a stretch every calendar month, and the journey and the intensity of the visits really does take its toll. I tend to stay with Mum the whole time each day and just keep her company whilst she's quiet or asleep. Its hard Lucy, very hard and I really feel for you. But I accepted Mum's dementia long, long ago and she very much still has the essence of herself, despite her severe cognitive impairment. People rarely die OF dementia, they die WITH it. Mum probably hasn't got much longer now, but I think her heart will fail before the dementia actually stops her remembering to breath. She already has great difficulty eating and swallowing and getting food and drink down her is very difficult now. I'm very glad you had some company from a hooky friend and from one of your offspring. Its very hard to look on the bright side, but don't give up on your Dad. Despite not seeming to recognise you, somewhere in there he will know that you have been and spent time with him. Try and love him for who is now, rather than the person you remember him being. I wish you all the best and hope your father is as well and happy as he can be. F xx

[Eli]

Dear Lucy, I am going through the same situation with my Dad, visiting him in my hometown, a coastal city that brings the very same memories and feelings that you describe in your blog, the difference is that I am from Argentina and not as talented as you are with the hook. We are all connected ❤️

[Jan Quigley]

Dementia, they call it the long goodbye & it’s so true. My Mum & I were very close, I could always rely on her for sound advice but slowly that was not possible, & the roles reversed & I was advising Mum, & helping her.
She settled really well into care, & I think was happier in herself than she’d ever been, as she know longer worried, or became anxious about anything. It did reach a point where she often didn’t know me, & she did pretty much stop talking, but she did enjoy my visits & always loved a hug. Thankfully she never lost her sense of humour, or love of food.
She passed in November after just a couple of days illness. It was sudden & very unexpected, but I know that she was ready to go. She was 94 & with mobility, vision, & hearing all very impaired, on top of her Alzheimer’s, it was a blessing. We all miss her terribly, but we’d been missing her before she passed. Hand on heart, it was easier letting her go than if she’d been her old self, so it is a gentler experience.
I’m so glad you had a friend with you & the opportunity to process what’s happening in such a lovely place. Hugs, Jan.

[Cathy Tucker]

Xxx

[Lynne Morris]

I’ve been there with my Dad, my heart goes out to you 😘
The matching numbers time (11.11) resonates with me absolutely. In 1999 I went, with my husband, to France to watch a total eclipse of the sun. We travelled by coach and the journey was interminable, about 22 hours 😮😮.
We clock-watched the entire journey and whenever the numbers matched on the coach clock at the front (10.10, 11.11 etc) right through to about 21.21, we shard a kiss - just a little peck. To this day, if either of us spots a matching number time, we still kiss 😘❤️❤️
We will have been married for 49 years in June (big anniversary next year).
Sending hugs to you Lucy 🤗

[Debbi Robertson]

I'm so glad you had a friend along for companionship and support, right when you needed it. The photo of your dad's hand in yours is beautiful beyond words. Keep right on sending your love to him; your soul will touch his in ways we don't necessarily understand, and deep, deep inside, he will feel it. He will always feel it. Sending you love.

[Lisa]

Lucy you are really a wonderful woman!!

[Laurel]

Hi Lucy, writing all the way from beautiful Washington State...and wishing you tons of prayers and positive thoughts. I went thru that with my mom, and now am approaching my 80's...it's very scary from both sides...bless you! Laurel Pries

[Barb Baines]

I went through this with my Grandmother and now my husband who is only 71. His was brought on by strokes. I know how you feel and how heartbreaking it is. Know that you aren't alone. Hugs to you.

[Laura]

So much of life is like this post. It is filled with almost unbearable sadness and yet at the same time, jaw dropping beauty. I love that you were able to express this by all by your photos and your art. So many of us know exactly what you are going through and find comfort in your journey to acceptance. Thank you for sharing your pain and your joy so eloquently. Blessing to you all the people who commented here. Kindred Spirits.

[Tineke]

Big, big hug for you, dear. The journey with loved ones towards dementia is incredibly emotional. My MiL thought my youngest was her son, their dad, and didn't recognize her son anymore. Their journey back in time, until even that last spark disappears. So painful, suddenly not being their child in memory anymore.

[gina in alabama]

My mother died earlier this month from advanced dementia. Still too close to say much at this time, but what a horrid, horrid disease it is. My love and prayers for you and your Dad, Lucy. Dorset is a beautiful place. There is still beauty in the world!

[Andrea S.]

Beautiful trip and I am glad you had such lovely things to balance out the sadness. It is very hard to lose someone you love bit by bit. After my grandfather could remember none of our family members he would brighten up when I sat beside him knitting or crocheting. He didn't know my name but called me "that girl who plays with string". I like to think our time together was comforting for us both even though he had no idea who I was.

[JennyS]

I feel for you Lucy, both my parents had dementia at the end and it was really traumatic. We still have mother in law who is in her mid 90s and mostly vaguely knows who we are - but only vaguely. We did find that taking in pictures or a book of scenic views was often helpful in getting a response. It does comfort us to know that she is both safe and content, as she hated to give up her home.
It does feel awful when those you love can't recall who you are. Dementia seems like a series of deaths - of recollection, character, ability, soul, body. So hard to see.

[Alison]

oops, somehow posted this in the wrong post previously. I think a blanket based on the colors in the Margaret Johnson platter would be stunning. Maybe down the road, eh, Lucy?

[Jenni Kelly]

My late father-in-law had dementia and ended his life in a care home. During his last year in his own home, he became increasingly confused and I think he was actually happier in his last years in the care home. He didn't know us when we visited (he lived 200 miles away) but I think he knew we were friendly and kindly disposed towards him. There were times when you could reach through the fog and make a connection. He always loved steam trains and I took in a picture of one. We had a good old chat about all the different features. It was like sun coming out from behind a cloud. He was always, and remained, a dear and gentle man

[Jacqui]

Dementia is horrible my parents had and my dad didnt recognise us, he went from a happy,soft,intelligent man to an angry, quiet anf sometimes violent man only because he was so confused. My mum was the opposite she was hard! But then dementia turned her into a sweet person like a child really. After helping care each day I would sto in the same layby on the way home have a little cry. Then move on.
Now we have my mother in law who went into a home so we are lucky this time the carers (angels) look after her and she is very challenging. We are lucky we can visit anytime we like and leave her knowing she is sage and cared for.
Big hugs to you xx

[Sara Jenkins]

Dementia is hard for everyone involved. But I’m glad your dad is safe and he’s loved. I’m sure who will be able to feel that security. I’m glad you had a friend with you and some sea air too to help lift your spirits. x