My mum died recently. She was 83 and had been ill for some
time but it was still a terrible shock when it happened. My dad died eleven
years ago so suddenly I am a member of the oldest generation in our family
which feels a bit scary. There feels a great sense of finality about it all.
The house that I’ve regarded as the family home for forty years will now be
sold and with it will go so many reminders of my childhood. The big garden
where I used to play as a boy, the greenhouse where my dad would sit and drink
tea and smoke, the lounge where mum would sit reading with one of her cats on
her knee. I am currently researching my
family history and now there will be no-one left to talk to about Mum and Dad’s
generation, a link with my past and with who I am has gone.
Mum had suffered from Dementia for the last eight years or
so and what a terrible experience that was for her and for all of us. I
sometimes think that people who have never experienced Dementia at first hand
assume that the person with it just goes delightfully dotty but the reality is
very different. Mum was always conscious of the fact that she was losing her
faculties and it was very distressing for her, she used to say to me “I’ve lost
my marbles haven’t I?” And life became very confusing for her as her short term
memory worsened. She couldn’t understand why she was in the house on her own
and why dad wasn’t home yet for his tea. And she became very obsessive about
things and would ring me about them every couple of minutes which got really
wearing. Her favourite phrase (which we were tempted to put on her gravestone)
was “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on!” It was heartbreaking to
see the constant state of agitation and distress she lived in.
The other heartbreaking thing was watching mum lose her
memory of who had been near and dear to her. For the last few years of her life
she had no memory at all of my dad who she had been married to for over fifty
years before he died. Nor did she recognise me or my brothers or my children
which was very upsetting for all of us. It seems a particular shame that she
wasn’t able to enjoy watching her grandchildren grow up and share the special
time with them that so many grandparents revel in. I feel like we were all
robbed of those last few years of her life. And unfortunately my main memories
of my mum at the moment are of those last few years and I really hope that in
time I will be able to recover happier memories of when she was still the
lively, vibrant and roguish person that was Jean.
Like many parents, Mum always retained that marvellous ability
to embarrass me in public. I was the youngest of her four children and even
when I was in my thirties she would still introduce me to people as “my baby”. And
she continued embarrassing me right up to a few months ago when she was taken
along to a church service in the care home where she lived and she heckled the
vicar (she was a confirmed atheist!) But she was also kind and loving and we
shared a love of history and visiting historic places. And I know that she
influenced for the good the lives of many young people that she worked with
over the years as a secondary school teacher. Mum was a real old fashioned
character and I miss her every day.
Rest in peace Jean.
