I’m not normally a fan of American family dramas, but I did enjoy this one.
Joy, 86, is the carer for her husband Aaron who has dementia. Aaron flits in and out of his old charming self, one minute singing hymns, old vaudeville songs or bits of Purcell, the next fretting and nagging and asking the same question over and over:
‘If you ask me that one more time I’m putting a bag over your head,’ she said mildly.
Aaron brought his face down to the teacup and took a sip, then looked fondly at his wife. He pointed to the cup of almost colourless liquid. ‘Join me, sweetheart?’
He began to sing in his once clear voice, now heavy and hoarse.
‘Tea for two, me for you…’
He sang pleasantly to himself while Joy fetched herself a cup of tea, and they sat looking out at the traffic’s red brake lights, something they’d both always found festive as the evening drew in. (7)
Aaron and Joy’s long shared life is beautifully created. Close as they are to their two children, they’re a unit that doesn’t really need anyone else. When Aaron dies, Daniel and Molly step in to manage and protect Joy, and on one level she seems to need it – she’s dishevelled, eating badly, and her apartment is a shambles. But she isn’t demented. She’s mourning in her own way. Why do her children want to protect her from something so normal? And why do the children become the judges of what’s appropriate, as in this case when Joy’s relationship with an old admirer seems to be developing into something more?
They may not mean to, but they do is very neatly turned round from a judgment of our parents to a judgment of us as children. How often well-meaning children decide their parents are big babies who need protection from themselves. Here’s to an old age in which you can do all the stupid things you want, just the way you’ve always done.