On Caring
A friend described to me crossing the road, as a child, holding hands with his grandmother. He spoke of the moment when he realised that the situation had shifted: that rather than his grandmother holding his hand, he was holding hers. A subtle shift, unacknowledged and externally unobservable. What another friend described, in an unforgettable turn of phrase, as a 'long-trousered' moment.
As my contemporaries and I cross into our fifties similar moments come more frequently. Our children leave school and start the journey to adulthood and physical and emotional independence, but our responsibilities to our parents grow. This is the cycle of life. Practical help and emotional support is required through illness, loneliness and the limitations imposed by age and perhaps, disability. There are numerous difficulties that surround this, for some distance and finance, for all the need to renegotiate relationships and reshape responsibilities. Some are able to rely upon family friends, brothers and sisters to share the things that need to be done, many face the challenges alone.
When my father died I found some comfort in the observation that the grief was necessarily associated with love. No love, no grief; and who would want to be without the love? The same is true for caring, you care because you care; and who would want not to care?
In universities, perhaps in the workplace generally, we have become more conscious of the responsibilities associated with childcare and, if not willing to really make space for it, at least aware of the stresses it engenders. We are less sensitive to caring and the large hinterland of emotional and physical engagement that surrounds it. This is largely hidden or little spoken of, yet I am increasingly aware of its effects on colleagues and friends. It only comes to the surface when you share your own experiences. A first collective step is awareness and acknowledgement.