Reflections on a motherless Mother’s Day
My first Mother's Day without mum
Today’s is a long one. Pour yourself a drink, pull up a chair and have a little nosey. A favour please, if you like this post/if you enjoy my writing, please do press like or consider commenting or sharing the post – apparently it makes a difference (well, I saw something like this on a Substack I read so I thought “hmmm…interesting”).
Thank you for continuing to be here with me.
Dear Diary,
So there you go. My first Mother’s Day without my mother. It was actually okay. I mean, I’m 53 years old for goodness’ sake. Of course, that does mean that I’ve had an awfully long time to get used to having mumsie around but still, I’m not so head up my arse as to not realise how fortunate I was to have my mother for such a long time. And more than that, to actually have a good relationship, for the most part, with her. But it does sting, I do still feel a bit lost and discombobulated, I do still say, at least on a weekly basis, to the air, “mummy, where ARE you?” Which is interesting because, I don’t actually think she’s anywhere. I think she’s gone. Pouff. Gone. Sigh.
On why we should never go back
I recently saw an old flame; he came to stay with me for the weekend (excitingo…I can have gentlemen callers now that I’m home alone!) and it was just wonderful. I feel lonely/alone quite a lot of the time and to have someone here with me was bliss (even if he did ask me borderline nothing about my life in the years since we’d seen each other). We agreed dating probably wasn’t sensible as he lives a couple of hours away, but we both agreed that we wanted to see each other again, perhaps even go on a little holiday! Lol. Anyway, it’s all gone very Pete Tong (aka wrong). I tell you this just as a background to my run up to yesterday and because, well, I like being able to tell you things.
An expected diagnosis
As an aside, or perhaps an addition, I’ve got my ADHD diagnosis now. So yeh, interesting. Even more interesting because the psychiatrist suspected another diagnosis (though she wasn’t assessing for that) that I had initially thought might be what’s up with me, might be made at some point.
All this to say, the last week to two weeks have been quite intense, I’ve been feeling super emotional and WAY less able to deal with my emotions, and consequently function like a bloody normal adult human, than usual. I’ve felt on a slippery slope to chaos. And I’ve turned to my old faithful – spectacularly disordered eating and overspending (just finished my spending tracker for the month and someone, no names, needs to cut down on milky coffees!).
Emerging on the other side
Sitting here now, on the other side of Mother’s Day, I think that that looming date, and yes, I know it’s just a made-up nonsense, was causing a lot of my issues because the ADHD is still there (obvs) and the failed “situationship” is very much still there. But I don’t feel nearly so bad. I feel as though I can manage. I’m determined to get a job*, and I’m working through my stupidly long “Life Admin” list.
I felt like this on the run up to my 50th, and therefore 25 years since I’d last seen my brother – who died when I was 25. I mean, we all know it don’t we, often, the anxiety and anticipation are worse than the thing itself? Gosh our minds are powerful.
A sweet treat from Astrid
One of the things I bought in my two week mini meltdown, was a Mother’s Day box from a tiny little bakery in Muswell Hill, Astrid Bakery, that I’ve been meaning to check out for a few months now. They often sell out of stuff and as it’s not exactly on my doorstep I’ve just never gone – so this seemed like the perfect opportunity, plus, I felt I wanted to spoil myself. I’d planned to get up early, collect the box, and then hot foot it over to hang out with my sister for the day but the clocks changing sort of stymied me and I didn’t do the collection until almost noon. Ahem. Guys…seriously, if you get the chance to visit this place you HAVE to go, their stuff is STUNNING. Honestly, the quality of ingredients must be out of this world and the execution is superb. I might have to move to Muswell Hill to be closer to them! Seriously. Chomp chomp. Less than a year after opening and they’re about to open a bigger bakery just down the road and this one…drumroll please…is going to have workshops!!! Woop woop. My favourite thing.
When the kids are all grown up
Horatio and my niece, Zizzy, were hosting my sister and me, at their house for a Mother’s Day lupper so, after loading the car with various stuff (it felt like he was moving out all over again) we set off south of the river. There was SO much traffic, and it took about twice as long as usual. Gah. We arrived to Zizzy cooking away, Horatio unloaded the car, and my sister and I left the two of them while we went for a stroll along the river. We stopped and sat on a bench looking out at the water and listening to it lapping at the riverbanks, and talked about mummy.
Did my mum date?
My mum must have been the same age as I am now when she upped sticks and left Doncaster to come to London with her 13-year-old daughter. Leaving her family, friends, and work behind, to get me away from the horrendously racist environment it then was (probs still is tbh). I’ve thanked her for that, of course, over the years, but something about the deep sadness I felt about my non-guy had me wondering about my mum, did she ever try to date after she and my father split up? Did she ever want to? Was she lonely? I mean, my mum was not prone to wallowing and was very much a stiff upper lip kind of person but still…was she? She gave up so much for her children, and sometimes that wasn’t necessarily good for any of us because there were years where we were her life, very much so, and that could be…stifling. But overall, life with mummy was great – she had periods spent one on one with each of us, and we all were lucky enough to have a close relationship with her.
Reflecting on a river
My sister and I talked about how brave and adventurous she must have been, to set off alone to London, something so out of the ordinary in her family at the time, to have ended up with my dad…a black man! We talked about her friendships, the intelligent and liberal set she fell in with – what it must have felt like to board a ship alone, with just your two very young children for company, to sail for however many weeks it took then to meet up with your husband on a tiny island so far away from home. We talked about what a life she had, how cultured she was, how fun, how strong. How we’re both doing without her. And without him. I wonder if they’ve met up (yes, I know I said I don’t believe in all of that, but I did say to him (my brother) earlier “I hope you’re looking after mummy Chis!”).
It was a bit chilly out of the sun, so we continued to amble along the river front, finding pockets of utter charm hidden along the way. We got back to the house to the most gorgeous smells coming from the kitchen – a stew of fennel and lamb served with orzo topped with toasted almonds. We sat round the dinner table, we two mothers with our children (one of mine sadly unable to be there) and chatted away as we munched on our feast. It was such a joy to be with them and I felt very enveloped in love – just what I needed. We moved to the sofas, a very stylish mid-century pair bought second-hand and, amazingly, separately, by Horatio and their other housemate, and drank Nozecco whilst tucking into the contents of the Breakfast Box.
I couldn’t have asked for a more lovely day. Of course I thought about mummy a lot, and I thought about Louisa and her four beautiful sons. I thought about being a mother and how much of ourselves we share, or don’t, with our children, and I felt unbelievably grateful to have the children that I do, and the niece that I do – I’m not alone, I’ve got a whole army of family around me and the beautiful thing is, it’s 100% reciprocated.
A tribute to my mum, from me
I thought I’d share the eulogy/tribute (below) I gave at my mum’s funeral (the one Louisa said she knew I could write, just a couple of weeks before she died), complete with timings (lol – we were under VERY strict time constraints) – I hoped it would give a sense of her, and of our relationship. Some of it won’t make sense here – it probably needs to be heard, but that’s okay.
With so much love to all of you touched by Mother’s Day.
A series of conversations with my dead mother
Mum, you know when we were in Doncaster yeh? You were the age I am now, 52. My friends all thought 52 was ANCIENT. But you weren’t ancient, were you!? You weren’t even old. You were just fun, and brilliant, and a bit mad.
We spent a lot of time just the two of us, didn’t we? In Africa. Hmmm? Well yes, daddy was there but he did have to travel a lot so it was often just you and me, in that strange place. I hated it there. Were you as lonely as I was?
You were the BEST mum though, you took me to the Aqua Club all the time, I loved that. Do you remember the synchronised swimming show I did? Honestly, I don’t know how you didn’t laugh – I was terrible.
We really missed Chris and Caroline, didn’t we? The holidays were as blissful as their return to school was brutal. You once told me that you thought people on the ferry home must have thought you were abusing me, so inconsolable was I. I’m sorry mummy, you must have been heartbroken too.
Remember how much I used to wriggle around in bed?
In Doncaster you’d let me sleep in with you as a special treat but if I squirmed about too much I’d be banished. Ha! I got my own back in London though didn’t I? Hmmm. No, not in the bed sit – oh I loved it there, it was like we were playing a game, a tiny team of two. Afterwards, when we moved to that little flat, do you remember? It only had one bedroom with a double bed. Sorry if I was too wriggly.
I remember those first few months as one big adventure.
2 mins
I can’t Imagine how hard that was for you mumma. Finally home, with family, and just three years later you were off again. Thank you mummy. You know this but, I will forever be grateful for the sacrifice you made for me. I know London had a draw on you, all that culture – but that’s not why we left. Doncaster just couldn’t accept your dark-skinned children. You saved me mummy; I couldn’t take it there much longer. Thank you, you beautiful, strong woman.
I remember how pleased you were when you found out that I had to do Latin at school. And French. You thought you’d be ace at helping with my French homework but, yeh, French just slightly eluded you. I love that you never stopped trying and loving it though.
You so shaped the person I am mummy.
You gave me a love of books…and of reading. My curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
I’m definitely a life-long learner too.
I’m pretty sure my fierce belief in equality and my bent towards socialism come from you.
It was good when we went to Buxton wasn’t it? Caroline and I kept singing “Euridice” afterwards. Remember? Cor, we must have been so annoying.
Oh yeh, and Jenny and Martin came and met us there, that was lovely.
Mumsie…thank you. Thank you for being there for me when I got pregnant. Thank you for not going mental. If Alex had got pregnant when she was 18 I’d have been furious, and scared. You weren’t, or, not openly. I’m so glad I was still living with you for all of that, - and for the first few months of her life.
YOU were a FANTASTIC grandmother. To all of them. I think you really loved being nanny, didn’t you.
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So it seems you are dead. I mean, I was there, I did see you take your last breath, and I stayed with you for hours afterwards, I sat on your bed and held your hand, and kissed your forehead. So I do know. But I somehow, can’t make sense of it. You’ve been with me for 52 years mummy, I can’t imagine a life without you.
“What’s that mumma?”
“Yeh, what do you want? Tea?”
“Oh mummy, mummy, mummy”
*On that – as 80% of jobs are apparently in the hidden job market…do please let me know if you hear of anything going. I’m looking to career change out of admin and into something with an element of creativity, perhaps an actual hands-on element like working in an art/craft studio or, working with children, organising events for a community organisation. Something fun…you know what I mean? It feels like time. I’m actually trying to get some work experience in a school kitchen – if any of you have any contacts, hit me up!! Please.
If you’re affected by any of the things I talk about here, know that my emails are always open – I really want to create a community here and I hope you feel as though you can reach out to me.
This is a lovely post. Thanks for sharing. I read it with a tear in my eye. It’s such a hard thing to lose a parent.
Thanks for sharing this with us Susie x