Oh dear, this is not a very happy thread. I think this is something that we will all have to face, but don't want to think about. I know I don't. I would hope that my son would probably be there in some way. My daughter can barely look after herself, let alone anyone else. The thought of losing independence is the worst part in my opinion.

I can only try to adopt Bobert's approach to it, and hope that I will get back some of what I have given. There is a lot of comfort in that thought.

This song, which was sung in a session on the weekend, immediately sprang to mind.

                        KILKELLY IRELAND - Peter and Steve Jones
            
   Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and sixty, my dear and loving son John:
   Your good friend the schoolmaster Pat MacNamara
   So good as to write these words down
   Your brothers have all gone to find work in England
   The house is so empty and sad
   The crop of potatoes is sorely infected
   A third to a half of them bad
   And your sister Bridget and Patrick O'Donnell
   Are going to get married in June
   And your mother says not to work on the railroad
   And be sure to come on home soon.

   Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and seventy, my dear and loving son John:
   Hello to your Mrs. and to your four children
   May they grow up healthy and strong
   Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble
   I suppose that he never will learn
   Because of the dampness there's no turf to speak of
   And now there's nothing to burn
   Bridget is happy you named the child for her,
   You know she's got six of her own
   You say you've found work but you don't say what kind
   And when will you be coming home?

   Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and eighty dear Michael and John my sons:
   I'm sorry to give you the very sad news
   That your dear old mother passed on
   We buried her down at the church at Kilkelly
   Your brothers and Bridget were there
   You don't have to worry she died very quickly
   Remember her in your prayers
   And it's so good to hear that Michael's returning
   With money he's sure to buy land
   But the crop has been poor and people are selling
   At any price that they can.

   Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and ninety my dear and loving son John:
   I suppose that I must be close on to eighty
   It's thirty years since you've been gone
   Because of all the money you sent me
   I'm still living out on my own
   Michael has built himself a fine house
   And Bridget's daughters are grown.
   And thank you for sending your family picture
   They're lovely young women and men
   You say you might even come for a visit
   What joy to see you again

   Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and ninety-two my dear brother John:
   I'm sorry that I didn't write sooner
   To tell you Father passed on
   He was living with Bridget she said he was cheerful
   And healthy right up to the end
   You should have seen him playing with the grandchildren
   Of Pat MacNamara, your friend
   We buried him along side of Mother
   Down at the Kilkelly church yard
   He was a strong man, a feisty old man
   Considering his life was so hard
   And it's funny the way he kept talking about you
   He called for you at the end.
   Why don't you think about coming to visit
   We'd love to see you again..........