Today my mother is 95! I've never even really come to terms with the fact that she's 90. My father was in hospital on her 90th birthday (he died 6 months later) and we took her out for lunch. That doesn't seem 5 years ago.
OK, she's been in a care home since March. Until then she was still living in her bungalow and doing everything (yes, everything!) for herself with only a lad to do the heavy bits in the garden. She herself made the decision to move as everything was getting too much for her – not unreasonable at her age! She's very deaf, rather frail and isn't very mobile but mentally she's all there. She's still painting, drawing, knitting and reading, all of which she can do in her armchair – she's always had the philosophy that she'd rather wear out than rust out. I think after all these years she is enjoying having time to herself and having someone else do the donkey work. And quite right too – I think she's entitled to that at 95!
Mum 3 years ago at Christmas
When I spoke to her this morning she was having a quiet day, enjoying the flowers and books we sent her. She's not a great one for parties, but unless I miss my guess the care home will have done something, if only make a cake for her! I'm sure we'll find out when we go to see her on Saturday.
My mother is the eldest of four sisters. The third sister died 12 years ago at 78. The other three are still going at 95, almost 93 and 86. I won't be at all surprised if she makes 100. And she still won't want a party!
Meanwhile, happy birthday, Mum and enjoy being 95 ... not many of us get that far nor do all the things you've done.