Jackie McGregor: Hello, goodbye! Navigating the ever-changing landscape of life

A rainbow of emotions has arched across my heart; it started with the passing of my 94-year-old aunt.

I stood in her care home room, looking around at the tiny world she had frequented in her final years. Her armchair lay empty. The ‘Best Auntie’ cushion I’d bought her, still held her imprint from the last time she’d sat there, probably watching the news at ear-shatteringly loud volume whilst sucking a Fisherman’s Friend.

I opened a black bin bag, wondering why they always inexplicably smelt of bonfires, and began to pack up her belongings. It didn’t take long. When I’d finished, I looked at the haul, six sacks of clothing, an ancient photo album and a wheelie case covered in 10 years’ of dust I’d taken from atop her wardrobe –like her, it hadn’t gone anywhere in the past decade.

As I looked at the meagre heap in front of me, all I could think of was that Peggy Lee song - ‘Is That All There Is?’ My tears flowed as I surveyed the scene, the air was thick with memories of my visits to her, when gin and tonic and Werther’s Originals gifts, made her face light up with delight.

I thought of all the things she had worried about, they seemed so inconsequential now. Gathering the bags, I turned to leave her room for the final time, ashamedly, with a hint of relief, that I would never have to set foot in this place again, I’d always felt uncomfortable here.

Later, I sorted through her belongings, having no family of her own, it fell to me to wrap up her earthly business. It felt terribly intimate going through her things. I found photos of her young beautiful self in various holiday destinations with people unknown to me. She looked carefree, fun-loving, it was an aunt I didn’t recognise, but I wished I’d known. She never showed me this side of herself and always treated me like a child, regardless of my age.

It felt intrusive going through her private things, discovering her secrets, and deciding what to do with her treasured mementos. Knowing the end of her story made me profoundly sad.

Then, amid that sorrow arrived cards for my son from universities he’d received offers from, wishing him well with his exams and encouraging him on the next steps of his journey.

With the conclusion of one life, another was on the cusp of a new beginning filled with exciting possibilities. Emotions washed over me, grief for what had been lost and excitement and anticipation of what was ahead, as my son’s life began to seductively beckon him towards his future and further away from his father and me. My stomach constricted at the thought of becoming empty nesters, but children need roots and wings.

I reflected on all the endings and beginnings that we relentlessly experience, on the hellos and goodbyes as the circle of life rolls mercilessly on. The human experience is all about readjusting to changing circumstances, loved ones arrive and depart, nothing stays the same, and we discover that the only constant in life is change.