Cath Sheard Art

Tag: Mum

  • A little creativity

    Tony & I nursed Mum for 14 years. After she died I didn’t create any finished art pieces for about 18 months. I expected the same to happen when Tony died. I’ve been prepared to spend my time creating in my art journals, relying on Dina Wakley and Dyan Reaveley for inspiration.

    Tony passed away three weeks ago tomorrow night. Last night I decided to put together a large concertina journal using Hahnemühle Bamboo Mixed Media paper. I figured it’d probably sit around for ages, unused, but making something was a positive step.

    Alan went to work early this morning, and I had some time at my desk before Sandra and I went out, then a few hours on my own once we got home. I, not sure where this is going, but there’s art happening and I’m amazed.

    I was talking to my good friend, and fellow artist, Pen Kirk about why it’s different this time. I feel I’ve had better self care throughout because I’ve “been there, done that”l also, I’m older, so have more life experience.

    Talking to my sister later, she remarked “Alan’s pretty helpful. Wasn’t Tony getting unwell by the time Mum died?” and both of those things are true. I’ve been fortunate to have Alan’s support the last few years, whereas in the final years with Mum Tony was already struggling.

    It’s great that I want to create already, but I won’t be putting any pressure on myself to create finished work. Whatever I do is ok…

  • It’s my turn

    Tony and I moved in with Mum in 1998 when she got very sick. We were live-in carers for 14 years, until she moved to the rest home 6 months before she died. It was incredibly hard work some of the time, but a huge privilege few daughters get these days.

    During that time I also personal care PoA for my aunt, who had dementia and needed a rest home apartment then secure unit, and finally hospital level care. Again, a lot of work. But Aunt J and I were close, and I was glad to look after her.

    Within a year of Mum dying Tony had to retire due to ill health. By the time he retired he’d already had two or three surgeries. For the last year or two he’s been less and less able; the last 6 or 8 months have been pretty awful.

    I’ve worked through all those years, and done my art. But suddenly I have, maybe not more time, but different time. My days are structured differently because I’m not juggling work, art and caregiving. Now it’s work, art and visiting Tony. By 7.30 at the latest I’ve seen Tony, had dinner, and the evening is mine.

    At the moment I’m going to bed early quite often. It’s cold, but I’m also resting and recuperating – my own emergency surgery is less than 3 months ago.

    I’ve spent most of the last 23 years listening for movement in the night, ready to get up and help Mum, then Tony. Since late last year I’ve been used to sleeping in 2 or 3 hour stretches, often only 6 hours a night. I’m learning to sleep through the night, although at the moment I’m often awake at 5 because I’m not used to so much uninterrupted sleep.

    My work and art are important to me, but they’re not ME. It’s time for me to concentrate a bit more on me – on looking after myself, and on figuring out what the coming years look like. I didn’t expect to be living alone at 56, with a husband in the rest home, but it is what it is. I’m determined to make the most of it, whatever that light look like. T

    he photos below are all of me, but none of them are me … that’s still a work I’m progress…

  • Shared memories #BlogJune 23

    I don’t have a great memory and freely admit it. I sometimes worry that my memories of Mum and Dad are sketchy – especially of Dad, who died 30 years ago. Some memories are mine alone, some are shared with other people. Tony and I have a lot of shared memories of Mum because we lived with her as caregivers for 14 years. Other memories are ones I share with my sister Ailsa, or my best friend Sandra (of both sets of parents).

    I’ve just come back from 10 days in Hokitika with my friend Alan. His Dad and mine were good mates so I spent a lot of time on their farm as a child then teen. When we were teens they spent a lot of time at our Waverley Beach bach. We have a lot of shared memories and many of those memories involve Dad.

    It got me thinking about why I love this photo so much. The most obvious reason is it’s my beloved Dad. Summer was always a happy time in my life; Mum and I stayed at the beach – Dad came down every night after work and we went swimming together. Dad was teaching me to ride his motorbike, which I loved, even after I had a wee accident on it! Dad’s in his shorts and a hat, so the weather is good and he’s relaxed. Oh, and I loved that red blouse & my jeans so much!

    One photo, but so many clues and memories. No wonder I treasure my photo albums and scrapbooks ❤

  • Stress hands! #BlogJune 4

    When Tony and I were Mum’s carers she was in and out of hospital a lot. Nurses would greet me by name in the supermarket. It could be stressful juggling Mum, work, newspaper, art and daily life.

    For some reason I find polishing my nails soothing. I don’t generally do them because paint sticks to the polish; my hands are artist’s tools so the nails get a hard time.

    This week has been difficult. (edit – this is yesterday’s post which I didn’t get a chance to post) For the first time in a very long time – possibly years – I’ve polished my nails. And, yes, the blue polish already has tiny flecks of orange on it.

  • As 2019 ends…

    The end of another year, and the end of a decade. This year I’ve worked hard, actively relaxed, spent quality time with Tony, contributed to the wider profession, had an art exhibition with Dimmie at Lysaght Watt, visited Penny and Alan on the West Coast a couple of times, been to Punakaiki to the pancake rocks, gained a nephew-in-law and a great-nephew, kept my weight steady-but-slightly-heavier-than-I-want and increased my daily steps to 6,000. Not a bad year’s work all up…

    And the decade? Hmm. Stepped up to my current role, gained a great-nephew in Australia, sat with Mum as she passed, had weight loss surgery, renewed old friendships, had a car accident, enjoyed endless hours of art & craft, and celebrated our silver wedding anniversary.

    Looking back at my blog from December 2009 the following stood out:

    Having passed my chest infection on to my husband (remember marriage vows – for better or worse – this is worse) and my mother (blast! at 85, it’s not a good thing) – I’m feeling a bit better. Although the house still sounds a bit like a TB ward really. Now that I have my coughing under control, and a wee bit of energy back, I need to get creating. I’m still the same – creating is my relaxation and my saviour.

    This year I have some personal goals, which I am not sharing, but am internally visualizing instead. My word this year is intended solely for my art, although as I live with and use the word I have no doubt I will start to find it fits with the whole of life. Why? Because my art and the whole of my life are inseparable. So, what is the word? MAP. It’s amazing to think I have been doing #OneLittleWord for over a decade now.

    And Faith wrote: Grandma has a chest infection, but the staff kept asking about the big bruise on her arm – and Grandma couldn’t remember how it happened. When we got home Mum and Grandma were laughing, saying that at this rate the Police will be round any day to accuse Mum of beating up Grandma. I remember this so well – I was really concerned they were going to report me for abuse, and I still remember how she got the bruise.

    As 2019 draws to a close, I am grateful for Tony, Faith & Goldie, family, friends, work and art. Here’s to a great 2020.

    August 2019
    Hiding the flaws