Snowbirds

Snowbirds on Canada Day 2024.
Photo credit Helen Ries

It is a beautiful day and the sun is shining brightly so my brother and I go for our usual afternoon walk around the block. It is hard to convince him to do things these days. People with Down syndrome experience an accelerated ageing and getting older, while hard for everyone, is particularly hard for them. My brother is no exception especially since the pandemic which took a significant toll on him.  When he was younger, he would spend hours on creative activities or watching TV, but now he spends a lot of his time staring at his calendar or scrolling on his iPad.

I often propose activities or invite him to join me in something I'm already doing. However, it's challenging for me. I spend so much time caregiving that whatever time I have left is very precious. It takes an enormous effort for me to balance that time between my other relationships and the life I want to live.

My brother and I have always been close. As children he was my sidekick, we played together and watched TV together. Even as we grew older and I moved away, he was always on my mind, and I missed him.

Ten years ago, after our parents died, we moved in together. He is at home and I work at home, so we spend even more time together now than when we were younger. Sometimes we don’t always want to spend more time together doing an activity. I think sometimes my brother is bored of me and I understand. 

Today is Canada Day. 

We live close to downtown, in the same neighbourhood where we grew up. And when the Canada Day airshow roars overhead, we can usually catch a glimpse.

My mother used to love the airshow, in particular the Snowbirds. As soon as she heard them approaching  she would run into the street to watch with my brother and I trailing behind. She would point skyward shouting “Snowbirds, Snowbirds!”. I can’t see the Snowbirds and not think of her. 

This morning the air show was in full swing but I didn’t bother shouting for my brother to come and look. I just know he wouldn’t be interested. We were also busy doing some house maintenance so we didn’t really acknowledge the day anyway. 

As we walk around the block, he is quiet and my mind starts to swirl. I feel guilty. I should have tried harder this morning to engage him in an activity. I should have put down my hammer and shared my time with him. Why didn’t I put together a fun Canada Day activity for us to do? I could have at least called him for the air show. My legs become heavy. I feel sick. There is a familiar pressure building and my heart sinks.

And this is why I find caregiving is so hard.

I feel that I have never done enough, and it causes me so much pain. 

We are rounding the block to the top of the hill. There is a nice bench we like to sit on for a break. Just as we sit down the Snowbirds come blasting out from behind the trees right in front of us. Their formation is perfect. They circle, not once or twice but a dozen times. It is thrilling to watch and my brother is beaming with joy. We wave at the planes and clap as they roar past. 

With every swirl of the formation, I feel a growing sense of liberation. The day has been made special. Although it was just by chance, our walk couldn’t have been better timed. 

On the final pass, a glimmer of light catches the plane's wing. I can’t help but think it is a message from my mother, or maybe we just got lucky.