Over the weekend I quietly marked an anniversary in my life … it’s now been two years since I found out that my Mother died.
We (my siblings and I) had been estranged from Mum for a number of years; she had severe mental health issues and sadly none of us was able to maintain a relationship with her. Mum refused to come to my wedding; the last time we spoke, I was 6 months’ pregnant with Mr 19. She never met my children – her grandchildren!
Why I Didn’t Talk to My Mum for over 10 years
Although it hurt not to have her in my life, I had much to be thankful for. I had (have!) a wonderful husband and two kids; although I struggled with depression at times (which I think is a consequence of childhood abuse), life was pretty good. Just to have a happy family was like heaven on earth after my own wretched childhood!
Over the years, I had come to a place of forgiveness and although Mum and I no longer had contact, I sincerely wished only the best for her. And I hoped, that somehow, she would have felt the same for me …
Until afternoon tea time on Wednesday, 24 August, 2011.
I was bored at work so googled my grandmother‘s name to see if she had passed away yet (That sounds really terrible! But she chose Mum’s side when family relationships broke down). I calculated she would have been 96 if she was still alive …
Sure enough, up popped a funeral notice. But imagine my shock when I read the following words:
MY MOTHER’S NAME, aged 62 years, of —. Passed away peacefully (date) 2007 at — Hospital. Dearly loved wife of A, beloved daughter of B and loved sister of C. Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend a Service of Thanksgiving for MY MOTHER’s Life to be held at 2 p.m. on — , 2007 in the — Church, — Street, —. Private Cremation. Special thanks to the staff at — Hospital and — Nursing Centre …
I sat staring at the screen, my brain scrambling to comprehend what I had just read.
Then the dates hit me. So long ago!
Stunned, I turned around in my chair to face the rest of my section; unable to speak. They must have seen something in my face because straight away one of my colleagues asked if I was all right.
Gasping for air, I finally choked out the words: “My Mum …. Died ……” and the floodgates opened. Despite our estrangement, despite the pain, despite everything, I was devastated. Why? Because at the end of the day, she was still my Mum.
Kindly they ushered me into an unused office and rang the hubster for me, then left me in peace to break the news to him.
Needless to say, I was in shock. We then had the terrible task of telling my siblings etc.
We did some investigating only to learn that it was my mother’s wishes that we, her own children, not be advised of her passing. There is no way to express the depth of our pain; it was three weeks before I felt calm enough to return to work.
During that time, my siblings and I held our own private memorial service, where we shared memories, tears, photos and a glass or two of wine. One sister played the song that has always reminded her of our Mum: “Because of You” by Kelly Clarkson.
I bought some scrapbooking supplies and made a memorial album with the handful of photos that I had of my Mum.
I was blindsided by grief. I thought I’d mourned the loss of my mother many years ago, when we were first estranged. But it seemed there was no end to my tears! Just the little things – seeing a woman in the street who looked like my mother … but of course it wasn’t. Driving behind a hearse, and thinking that my mother had made that final journey … and I hadn’t been there.
I Must Confess … in some ways it’s easier now. When people ask about my Mum, I can blandly reply, “She passed away”.
No longer do I have to mention that we didn’t speak for years; no longer do I have to watch the judgement and condemnation fill their faces. I guess I can understand their reactions: what sort of monster has nothing to do with their own Mother?!
Two years later, I still haven’t been to see her niche. I want to, but I guess I’m still not quite ready.
The sadness I feel as I remember this “anniversary”, is mostly for my Mum, and all that she missed out on.
Rest in Peace, Mum.
