Phyllis stood by her father’s bedside, her hand gently squeezing his as he took his final breaths. In that poignant moment, she witnessed the departure of her funny, wise, and loving father from this world.
The passing of Phyllis’s father, Dino, in 2011 marked a profound turning point in her life, leaving her unprepared for the changes that would follow.
Reflecting on those final moments, Phyllis recalls focusing intently on the pulse in her father’s neck. As long as she could see the rhythmic sign of life, her father was still with her.
When her father slipped away, the loss was overwhelming, leaving Phyllis and her family devastated by the void his absence created.
I remember staring at the pulse in his neck; as long as I could see his heart beating, Daddy was still alive.
My Daddy was gone too. And we were devastated.
The ever-increasing role of caregiving
Mum was ‘happy’ to ride the grief roller-coaster by herself.
My father was also Mum’s interpreter when her limited English faltered.
Phyllis with her mother, Barbara. Source: Supplied
At the same time, my boys are getting older — and I find they need me more than ever.
As they become men, I can’t take my eyes off the ball. I need to be present, and there are often important and sometimes difficult conversations we need to have.
When boundaries and love co-exist
Still with me?
Boundaries are vital, because drowning in the soup, desperate for a chunk of her own time, is me.
Phyllis (left) has learned that the only way she can effectively care for her two teenage sons and elderly mother is by caring for herself, which means setting strict boundaries. Source: Supplied
Last year, I wrote and performed in my first one-woman show in 20 years — A Little Bit of Lip — at the Sydney Fringe Festival. It was a series of monologues based on ‘my daily struggle as a peri-menopausal co-parent of teen boys and caregiver for my wisecracking mother’.
In fact, it makes our love for each other more resolute.
