My mum died in August, she was 92. That’s truly a long life. She was ready to go. She’d been in a lot of pain for a couple of years so it was a merciful release. 70 years is a long time to have your mum in your life. So this Christmas will be the first one that I won’t talk to her. Much to my sisters’ annoyance I was her favourite. She always denied that, but I know I was her favourite. I was always her little boy, right up to the day she died, and her little boy was with her to the end. I watched as she drew her last breath and peacefully slipped away.
Even though I was her little boy we used to have quite vigorous discussions, sometimes bordering on the edge of arguments, and I have to say I lost it the day she told me she’d voted for brexit. Mother, I always called her that, came from a long line of puritanical bigots. Staunch chapel folk who never let their ‘Christianity’ interfere with their judgemental bigotry. Respectable English middle class white people who believed in hard work and a lifestyle not too comfortable or ostentatious. Of course the family wasn’t really English because a generation or so prior to my granddad's, the family had come from Scotland. Grandad also married a Scots woman, my Nana. I’ve really worked hard to break the bigotry chain. I hope I've succeeded. I now tend to use that trait as a source of humour or making a point.
I do have a lot to thank mother for I led a reasonably nice life thanks to her. Before I was born she had worked in a music/record shop, Harper’ in Bury St Edmunds, she absolutely adored music. Something I inherited from her. She could play the piano. Her parents had owned a baby grand piano. She had lessons when she was old enough. Her and her brothers also slept under it during the war apparently. Working in the music shop enabled her to build up quite a collection, for the fifties, of records. Music was so often on in our house, either records or the radio. We didn’t have a telly until I was about five. Mum was always quite creative and certainly helped and encouraged me with my drawing and painting. Her father, having filled my head with stories of his travels when in the navy, this fuelled my desire to travel. It was my mother who paid for me to go on two educational cruises in the Mediterranean when I was at secondary school. It added so much to my life.
My dad was never happy about it but mum went out to work once my youngest sister went to school. I by default, being the eldest child, took on some responsibilities. I walked to school with my youngest sister and spent the first year when she was at school having school dinners with the infants to be with and look after her. During the school holidays I was responsible for seeing that we had our lunch. To begin with Mum would make something for me to heat up, but later I would actually part prepare or totally prepare a simple meal. Mum taught me to cook, which I’m very grateful for. Mum worked really hard, mostly in food factories, and it enabled us to have a comfortable lifestyle. Again something I am very grateful for.
Later when I was first married she would provide foodstuffs from the factory shop she worked at for us. Then when my marriage broke up her and her husband gave me a roof over my head for a few months. When she was widowed and I was a bit better off I did try and repay her whenever I could. She was however a stubborn old bugger (another family trait) and certainly refused to be helped on occasions when she really needed it.
She died in hospital but had spent her final four weeks prior to that in a care home. She never wanted to be ‘any trouble’, but of course by being like she was, it did actually cause trouble. Unfortunately I’m a bit like that too.
We were never a hugging or kissing family, which is why I find social affection difficult. I did however kiss her forehead and told her I loved her the day before she died.
