Gwen Stops Driving – A Sad Day Indeed
There’s no doubting that owning and driving a car gives one a sense of independence and a sense of control over one’s life. And it’s hard for some ageing relatives to admit that it may be time to give up the car and stop driving. Mum grappled with this, as we three children did on her behalf. Particularly as she began the slow and relentless descent into dementia.
Leslie and I had experienced two firsthand incidents which worried us….a LOT. One was when Mum was turning right from Mowbray Road to Penshurst Street after having dinner out with us. Mum made the turn, only to laugh as she said, “Oh look, I’m on the wrong side of the road”. Yeah, we noticed!!
And the second time was as Leslie and I headed to work down the back streets of Willoughby, only for some crazy person to pull out of a side street without even looking, and almost cleaning up our car in the process. “Oh look”, I said, “It’s Mum”. Later Mum explained that that no one ever goes straight ahead there, so she didn’t need to look. Well, ‘no one’ aside from us apparently.
Kate, David and others had noticed similar incidents. And it was all coming to a head in 2012, as Mum approached her compulsory 85 year old’s theory and driving test. She just wasn’t sure she was up to that. And neither were we.
Mum eventually decided she wouldn’t (or couldn’t) do the test, but occasionally that decision slipped her mind as she hunted for her car keys, which we’d hidden.
And so, on Saturday 10 November 2012 I took Mum’s car from her, and with it a large part of her independence. And below is an email I sent to Kate, Charlotte and Leslie immediately afterwards.
Me and Mum (Rob and Gwen)
Saturday 10 November 2012
Hi There
I've just spent the past 15 minutes trying to get my breath back. I was overcome by a major sobbing episode. We're not talking crying here. This was sobbing to the point where I just couldn't catch my breath and I was shaking uncontrollably.
It started to build from when I was at Mum's after having been to Northbridge with Leslie and her to do some grocery shopping. Leslie dropped us back to Mum's and I said I'd take Mum's car with me if that was OK, as there was a guy at work who might be interested in it for his son. Sure, a white lie, but better than saying I was moving it so she wouldn't be wondering why she didn't have the keys anymore and getting angry again.
Mum had to pick up her Webster Pack so I said I'd drive her down and back, but she said it would be good if I just dropped her down there and she would walk back as she needed some exercise.
I asked her if she could find the photo of Darryl, AC, Aunty Anne and her at Darryl's party as I wanted to copy it....but also to give me some time to grab the car keys from their hiding place, without upsetting her.
Three sisters and Darryl at his 50th
So I said did she want anything from the car...she said she didn't think so, but we took a look anyway.
In the boot was an old mini vacuum.....she picked it up and looked at and said "Do you think I'll need this?"
I said to hang onto it if she needed to, but she said maybe someone who uses the car might need it, so she left it there.
I commented that the car was very clean....and she said, "Yes....I always try to keep it neat and tidy."
Then we got inside the car, and she saw the street directory and a chamois.
She said "I should hang onto the street directory I suppose, shouldn't I? And this chamois might be handy".
At this stage I was barely able to stop myself tearing up. I could feel the weight of this all on her shoulders, and the air was thick with sadness.
I said to leave it all for now, and that I’d make sure that I took everything out before the car went to someone else, and that that wouldn't happen until we spoke with her again about the car.
And she agreed. I think she was just as uncomfortable with it all as I was...and I just had to make it all go away for now. For her sake, but also for mine. It was just becoming something physical for me...a real physical ache.
We drove down to the corner of Laurel and Penshurst, and Mum insisted on getting out there "to save you going around the corner".
She got out and smiled and said how nice it always was to have some time with me...and closed the door of her car, probably for the last time.
As I drove off, I started to cry, and as I looked in the rear view mirror Mum was watching the car disappear and waving....and it was like she was saying goodbye to this big chunk of her life. She could see it disappearing in a very real sense.
I think it was more of a feeling for her....a sad, sad feeling....but for me I knew that this was a major step in this whole, horrible process.
By the time I got the car back to my place, I was in a mess....I picked up the chamois and the street directory and the photo from Darryl's party and I saw Mum's beautiful smiling face and these two symbols of what she has had to let go.
And now, they're all on my kitchen bench and every time I look over at the street directory I start to sob again.
I know that this had to be done, but it's just such a terrifically sad, sad thing...and it's a major and unwelcome stage in a truly relentless and cruel process.
There are only two other times in my life that I can remember sobbing uncontrollably like this....one was waving goodbye to a 3-year-old Ben as he left Central Station on the train to move to Queensland, and the other was standing in the backyard with my dead father, waiting for the funeral directors to arrive and take him away.
I know that having the car taken away from her is not the end of the world for Mum, but it is something that I’ll never forget. Sadly in one way, but not in another, she will.
Speak to you all soon....and make the most of your lives grabbing every moment and sucking the enjoyment from it as Mum has always done.
Rob
xxx
POSTCRIPT : October 2024 - I still have the street directory and the chamois. They still make me cry.
Written by Rob Landsberry, last updated 24 October 2024