Sorry I haven't written much for quite a while until this week. I am afraid my dear mother passed away at the beginning of the month. She had been suffering for quite a while so it came as a relief when we knew she was finally at peace. However nothing can prepare you for the time it happens. It's a strange sensation and makes you feel lonelier than you would normally be. The one thing I can be glad about is that we had a strong relationship before she faded away.
I think my mum would have made a great diplomat. The perpetual big occasion dinners inevitably brought out the worst in us, and the arguments over a certain vegetable are legendary. And although there would be enough potatoes to feed a platoon, goodness knows how the oven coped, we never failed to squabble. But mum found a solution – she gave me a smaller plate but piled up all my potatoes under the other veg. That negated any complaints from others. So sorry to my brother John, but I truly did have more potatoes on my plate than you!
But underlying all this was a vulnerability that only surfaced in private moments. She was in great pain a lot of the time with her back or her legs. She cursed her pain but she never complained or sought sympathy. She also felt quite alone, especially in her later years as her neighbours slowly moved away and those that remained or moved in barely trod upon the driveway. Company was the only thing which drove her aches and pains away – they were the remedy, but unfortunately company didn’t always visit her. And nobody filled the space her own mother vacated.
There is a difference between a task and a duty.
A task is clearing up the mess left behind. A duty is clearing up the mess left behind a dying brother-in-law. For nearly a decade. A task is bringing home the coal to put on the fire. A duty is where you do it when you’re not yet ten years old.
Born in 1937, her earliest memories would likely have been the disturbing sights and terrifying sounds of the Second World War. From a very young age, she was brought up by her grandmother in a family where her mother and aunt were more like sisters. Surrounded by this strong matriarchal circle, she received strong lessons in responsibility and obligation.
Living in wartime and post-war Britain was arduous enough for an adult, but for a child it must have been daunting, grim and unimaginably harsh. So for my mum any hope of a normal childhood was cancelled. Happier times occurred later in life and sisterhood with her mother confirmed when she and my dad got together. A mother and daughter marrying two brothers. It’s a complicated story and I’ll tell you after if you’ve got a spare hour.
With such a youth, duty was instinct.
Once again, there’s a difference between a mother and a mum.
A mother reads you a story. But a mum teaches you to read the story for yourself. And a mum gets you the right material to suit your interests. And a mum harvests and nurtures those interests and seeks advice from teachers. And a mum sends you to the right school. And a mum goes mad when you say you’re not going to college, you’re going to get a job in McDonald’s. And a mum packs you off to university with a cupboardful of food. And a mum tells you to go out into the wilderness and do your own thing even if she’ll be lonelier without you. And a mum will call you once a week to see how you’re doing. And a mum will get you out of hole after hole, time and time again.
And finally, a mum is someone who deserves our most heartfelt, sincerest, if well and truly belated, thanks for all she did for us without so much as a prompt for thanks. An empty dinner plate, a smile, a sigh of relief, were all the thanks she required.
I have received several requests for the eulogy I wrote to read at her funeral. For quickness and ease I thought I would publish a large part of it here rather than post copies off. My mum was such a robust woman but she had a chocolate heart and I wanted those who attended her final journey to hear of my pride at being her son:
There’s a difference between a mother and a mum.
A mother is someone who makes you look tidy and scrapes the food off your face before school. But a mum makes sure that when you come back, the house is heated, the dinner is on and the greeting is cheerful and sincere.
There’s a difference between an aunt and an auntie.
An aunt will stop to have a chat with you on the street when you haven’t met for a while. An auntie will drive you home safely afterwards and wait for one of your parents to arrive.
There’s a difference between a grandmother and a nan.
A grandmother looks after you while your parents are still at work. A nan feeds you, provides you with toys and games, and clears up when you’ve gone. Day after day, for several years.
There’s a difference between a friend and a mate.
A friend will lend you money. A mate won’t cash the cheque when you return it.
And my mum was all of these and more. She loved to have company. From embarrassing us by striking up a conversation with diners at a restaurant on another table close by, to keeping the pools collector occupied on the front step, to peering out of the front window at the slightest noise to see if someone was coming to visit, she was in her element when she was with people, whether one person or a crowd.
A mother is someone who makes you look tidy and scrapes the food off your face before school. But a mum makes sure that when you come back, the house is heated, the dinner is on and the greeting is cheerful and sincere.
There’s a difference between an aunt and an auntie.
An aunt will stop to have a chat with you on the street when you haven’t met for a while. An auntie will drive you home safely afterwards and wait for one of your parents to arrive.
There’s a difference between a grandmother and a nan.
A grandmother looks after you while your parents are still at work. A nan feeds you, provides you with toys and games, and clears up when you’ve gone. Day after day, for several years.
There’s a difference between a friend and a mate.
A friend will lend you money. A mate won’t cash the cheque when you return it.
And my mum was all of these and more. She loved to have company. From embarrassing us by striking up a conversation with diners at a restaurant on another table close by, to keeping the pools collector occupied on the front step, to peering out of the front window at the slightest noise to see if someone was coming to visit, she was in her element when she was with people, whether one person or a crowd.
She had the most cunning advice too, if you listened carefully enough. The greatest piece of advice anyone ever gave to me was when looking for employment, never start at the bottom and await promotion, but start at the top and work down until someone takes you. I took this to heart too, and although I spent over a year out of work, it ended with my dream job and I wouldn’t be there without her.
I think my mum would have made a great diplomat. The perpetual big occasion dinners inevitably brought out the worst in us, and the arguments over a certain vegetable are legendary. And although there would be enough potatoes to feed a platoon, goodness knows how the oven coped, we never failed to squabble. But mum found a solution – she gave me a smaller plate but piled up all my potatoes under the other veg. That negated any complaints from others. So sorry to my brother John, but I truly did have more potatoes on my plate than you!
But underlying all this was a vulnerability that only surfaced in private moments. She was in great pain a lot of the time with her back or her legs. She cursed her pain but she never complained or sought sympathy. She also felt quite alone, especially in her later years as her neighbours slowly moved away and those that remained or moved in barely trod upon the driveway. Company was the only thing which drove her aches and pains away – they were the remedy, but unfortunately company didn’t always visit her. And nobody filled the space her own mother vacated.
There is a difference between a task and a duty.
A task is clearing up the mess left behind. A duty is clearing up the mess left behind a dying brother-in-law. For nearly a decade. A task is bringing home the coal to put on the fire. A duty is where you do it when you’re not yet ten years old.
Born in 1937, her earliest memories would likely have been the disturbing sights and terrifying sounds of the Second World War. From a very young age, she was brought up by her grandmother in a family where her mother and aunt were more like sisters. Surrounded by this strong matriarchal circle, she received strong lessons in responsibility and obligation.
Living in wartime and post-war Britain was arduous enough for an adult, but for a child it must have been daunting, grim and unimaginably harsh. So for my mum any hope of a normal childhood was cancelled. Happier times occurred later in life and sisterhood with her mother confirmed when she and my dad got together. A mother and daughter marrying two brothers. It’s a complicated story and I’ll tell you after if you’ve got a spare hour.
With such a youth, duty was instinct.
Once again, there’s a difference between a mother and a mum.
A mother reads you a story. But a mum teaches you to read the story for yourself. And a mum gets you the right material to suit your interests. And a mum harvests and nurtures those interests and seeks advice from teachers. And a mum sends you to the right school. And a mum goes mad when you say you’re not going to college, you’re going to get a job in McDonald’s. And a mum packs you off to university with a cupboardful of food. And a mum tells you to go out into the wilderness and do your own thing even if she’ll be lonelier without you. And a mum will call you once a week to see how you’re doing. And a mum will get you out of hole after hole, time and time again.
And through all this, a mum gets taken for granted. Is criticised for silly meaningless things. Is nagged at when she’s forgotten something. Is brushed off with a post-teenage grunt or even ignored when all she wants is a chat. Takes every trivial complaint on the chin until she’s so frustrated and annoyed that she finally gets her coat and goes out for a drive. Looking back now I wish she had stuck up for herself more and set us more often in our place. But that was mum. She tried to prove herself through what she did rather than through what she could ever have said. She owned the motto that "actions speak louder than words".
And finally, a mum is someone who deserves our most heartfelt, sincerest, if well and truly belated, thanks for all she did for us without so much as a prompt for thanks. An empty dinner plate, a smile, a sigh of relief, were all the thanks she required.
May she rest in deserved peace.
1 comment:
Ray, my thoughts are, and were, with you and your family. That was a very touching Eulogy. Take care,
Simon (and Melanie).
Post a Comment