The first would be to spend one more day with my mum.
So many questions have arisen in my mind since she died that it would be wonderful to be able to talk to her, learn about what happened, learn some history, learn more about her.
She had a complicated life built on an unconventional and what must have been incredibly unstable and difficult foundation. She was adopted by her grand-parents having been born illegitimately although her mother was still there and, in her life, but who did not want to be in a supportive roll. Illegitimacy wasn’t acceptable in the 1920’s and her adopted parents, her grand-parents, apparently called her “the bastard child” on occasion. This was nearly a hundred years ago now and standards were obviously different but that behaviour would have been harsh even in those days. Irrespective of the social acceptability of a situation, it could not have been a positive experience for the child in question.
The evidence is that her mother was a sex worker and continued to be so for some years and there is evidence that my mum took the same route. She would have had an incredibly hard life when I was a child, I had two older siblings and there were times when she had to support and care for us on her own, her partner being in prison for a time, something that forced her back into her former role as a sex worker.
Given even this brief history it would not be a surprise if she developed a complex and possibly erratic character.
I would love the opportunity to learn more about her life, what made her the person she was. There were times when she was incredibly strong and times when she was clearly vulnerable.
She had a lot to deal with; a violent partner who spent time in prison (but not for the violence), moving house numerous times (I have no idea why), no financial support from our father, in fact no support at all because he just disappeared apparently as a result of him finding her in bed with another man. But, as a child I was never hungry, always well dressed, always at school and safe.
If I could see her again, I’d like to ask her why she stayed with an abusive partner. Was it love or maybe just a simple need, need to have at least somebody in her life or a need for the financial and practical support? Was it because she had had enough of being abandoned, as she was by her mother, our father and maybe was tiring of it? I’d love to be able to have that conversation with her. To know her story.
When I was a child she was always arguing, or rowing would be a better term, with her partner. My siblings, being older, were normally out in the evening and I can understand why. One of my earliest memories is getting out of bed in the evening, having been woken by the noise and walking down the hall of the flat we were living at the time. She came out of the living room and I recall asking her to stop arguing. I was in tears. She told me to get back to bed and to mind my own business. I would have been 6 or 7 at the time. Harsh? I think most people would say so. Acceptable? Well, not now of course but then? Who knows? If I had the chance to talk to her once more, I don’t think I would mention that particular memory.
When I was a little bit older, 9 or 10 maybe, I earned pocket money by doing small jobs for my brother and saved to buy her a Christmas present. My sister took me out on a train to a jeweller described as being “in town” is my recollection but I now know it was Mike End but still exciting. I bought my mum a crystal necklace. If I recall it cost £1 or £1.50 which would be £20-30 pounds now so it sounds about right. I remember her wearing it often and she seemed to like it.
One day, and I can’t remember how much later, there was another row and her partner (who I have purposely not named because this isn’t about him) grabbed the necklace. It broke and the crystals all fell to the floor which I suspect is what he wanted to happen. I remember my mum in tears and on her hands and knees trying to find the stones which were spread all over the floor. Her partner mocked her for crying and I recall him saying “It’s only a bloody necklace“ and I also recall watching this without any emotion. My recollection is that it was just like a silent, black and white movie, that didn’t touch me, didn’t come out of the screen so didn’t affect me but was just something that was happening outside of the bubble I was in. I suspect that I had gone into some protective mode, some psychological state probably kicked in. Thankfully. Or maybe I had just got used to it.
I have recalled the incident with the necklace many times in my life. I can see the fire place, the chair in front of it, the windows behind. I can see him lean over and grab her necklace and pull it. And I can see her on the floor picking up the stones, all as if it were yesterday. And I wish I had been ten years older so that I could have protected her but of course, if I had been older it probably wouldn’t have happened, that’s how bullies operate. At the time I had no idea what it meant to a mother to receive a gift from one of their children, what the value of that gift would be to her. I had no idea how disproportionate the emotion of what a mum feels compared to what the gift cost when the gift is from one of their children. So I had no idea of the hurt and pain she would have felt as she crawled on the floor searching for those tiny stones. I would like the opportunity to ask her if she remembered that necklace and to tell her that I now better understand what she was probably feeling and how I wish I could have helped her.
Some years later, I would have been in my early twenties and she was approaching her sixties, she called and asked to meet me, which was unusual, and we went for a walk in a park in Upminster, where she was living at the time. The fact that she didn't ask me to go to the house was also very unusual. As we walked she told me that her partner was being abusive and violent towards her. I recall that at the time I reacted immediately and with anger, to say the least, but as I grow older I realised how hard that must have been for her, to involve her son in this, to share it with me, to seek help. Of course I was ready to confront him but she asked me not to and to wait and see how it developed. I understand that she told him of our meeting and that the violence stopped, as I say above, that’s how bullies behave.
I would love to be able to ask her why she put up with this, why she stayed with him. Did she really love this man?
Over the years my feelings for her have wavered between pity for what she had to put up with and anger and how I was treated. When the anger rises I remember what she had to deal with and it subsides …until it rises again and I repeat the cycle which can take months to complete and then returns to the beginning.
There were events that I did not, and can still not, understand or justify in my mind. Times when she behaved outrageously with no apparent concern for my, or my siblings, happiness or well-being. But there was always, in my mind, that excuse, that justification, for her irrational and sometimes harsh, behaviour. I have no idea if I would ask her about these things. If my wish were to come true I would have just one day and if it ended with her being unhappy or upset then there could be no worse outcome.
When I was in my forties I was to learn that I had another sibling, a brother twelve years older than I. This had been kept a secret from us all for all of our lives and I felt cheated. When this came out (he had been found by accident by my sister who was researching the family tree) my mum told us that she had kept in touch with his adopted mother and had felt that it was best if we didn’t know about it. My new brother was as shocked as we were to learn about his “new” siblings but chose not to meet with our mum so as not to upset his mum who had looked after him since he was a baby. Our mum said she understood and told him that if ever he had any questions he only had to ask.
A few years later his adoptive mum passed away and he contacted our mum to see if they could meet. And she told him that she didn’t want to meet him. It also transpired that she hadn’t been in touch with his family at all since she gave him up for adoption. She also engaged solicitors to try and get my sister from sharing the knowledge of our older brother. All quite a long way from “keeping in touch” with the women who adopted him. The adopted brother had just one question he wanted to ask and that was “Who is my father” but she refused to tell him.
She died of cancer in 2001. An illness that wasn’t very long but long enough for us all to try to come to terms with it. I had not seen her for some time when she was diagnosed and became bedridden but I kept in touch. During one telephone call I asked if she would like me to go and see her and she said that she didn’t.
As her death approached she relented and said she would like to see me. I said I’d go and that our older brother, who had been adopted, would also like to see her but she said that she didn’t want to see him. This put me into a difficult position. Do I go alone and then, later, tell my new brother who I had come quite close to, what had happened? What would he make of that? How would he feel? How would I explain what I had done and would it affect our relationship? I decided not to go and she died a week later. Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have gone?
My brother heard nothing from her since he asked to meet her and she left nothing to tell him who is father was. I have thought about this for many years now and still am totally unable to even begin to comprehend this behaviour. The only conclusion I can come to is that he was born as a result of an encounter and she did not, or to be fair, maybe could not, admit to this. Maybe she didn’t know who the father was. Would I ask her who the father was if we met? I suspect I would, I would have no choice because I know how important it is to my brother.
What would I want to say as our day came to an end? Simple really. I’d want her to know that, despite our differences I loved her. I’d tell her that I fully understood that she had a difficult and hard life at times but she still looked after us well.
I’d tell her that I wish our relationship could have been different but, for that to have happened her whole life from birth would probably have had to have been different and that would be too big an ask.
I'd tell her that she looked after me well and gave me a good start in life.
I would ask her about my father, of whom I have only one memory, and what she knew about him.
Of course I would always be unsure of the accuracy of anything she told me so everything I heard with be received with some scepticism. So what would be the point of asking in the first place one might ask.
I’d tell her that I hoped that, wherever she was now, that she was happy and content and able to relax.
And I’d say sorry for not always being there for her even though I was there more than anybody else.
And what would she say and do? During our conversation she would probably claim not to remember some if not all of the things I mentioned which of course may be the case, selective memory is a great protector.
And what would her last words and actions be?
She’d could put her arms around me and quietly say “It was lovely to see you darling, and nice to have a chat” followed, maybe, by a kiss on the cheek.
Or, maybe, she would stand up and say, “Is that it? Was there anything else.” And when I said “No..... thank you mum.” She would turn and walk away….without looking back.
Which do I think it would be? My heart says the first but my brain says the second.