My mum, Jane, passed away on Friday 20th March. It's convention at times like this to say of the deceased something like, "They would do anything for anybody," or, "They never had a bad word to say about anyone."
Anybody who says this about my mum obviously never knew her very well.
She was fiercely loyal to family and friends, but woe betide anyone who got on her wrong side. She would never forget and could harbour an Olympic sized grudge, something she's passed on to me. Thanks mum.
She was a fierce woman, and a fighter. She had to be.
The youngest daughter in a family of 12, she had to battle for attention and a place at the dining table from when she was wee.
She had to share a bedroom with her five sisters when she was young, gradually getting more room as they left to get married one by one.
As a working woman she also had to raise two children while her husband, John, had to work ever changing shift patterns that left the burden of the care on her.
When my dad died, she had to raise two troublesome and troubled teenagers who didn't appreciate how hard it was for her. They say that you don't know how challenging it is to be a parent, let alone a single parent, until you have to do it yourself. Her lessons in tough love came back to me when I became a dad, albeit tempered by my wife's more relaxed approach to parenting.
The grandchildren were her payback and the best thing my sister and I were ever able to do for her. After probably despairing that either of us would ever start a family, she had a rapid fire introduction to grandparenting with four boisterous boys in the space of six years. Be careful what you wish for.
Did she spoil them? What do you think?
Becoming a grandparent softened her a bit and gave her a new purpose. She moved to Buckingham to be nearer my sister and consequently my nephews saw a lot more of her than my two. I know that my sister is eternally grateful for her help with the boys.
She was a regular feature in their lives with presents, going on holiday with us, and knitting some beautiful items for all of them. Love in every stitch.
Two years ago everything changed when she had a cancer diagnosis. This was a big shock for us all, and the treatment was hard on her. She was incredibly brave in going through the rounds of chemotherapy that she did, but it was brutal. She withstood it with a grimace and a grin, never wanting to make a fuss about it. That was her motto - "Don't make a fuss."
The treatment gave us an extra two years with her, and I'll always be grateful for that, but they were hard won years. She was more frail and less inclined to venture outside. The woman who had always been proudly self reliant spent more and more time perched in front of the telly, her once neat and tidy little house becoming slowly more dusty. She still always looked immaculate in her personal appearance. I guess that was as much as she could manage towards the end.
We talked about getting help for her, but apart from a brief period when she was undergoing chemo, she was stubbornly resistant to the idea of anyone - apart from my wonderful sister - coming in to help her. Even at the end, when she was incredibly weak, she knew what she didn't want, and made the case forcefully.
And in the end, she was in hospital where she was looked after with great kindness by staff who were facing an overwhelming demand as the Covid 19 crisis mounted. They took the time to cajole her to try to eat, and would get a smile out of Jane.
That's my abiding memory of her - smiling and chuckling at a joke she made the last time I saw her. Inevitably it was at somebody else's expense. Oh well. you can't break the habit of a lifetime.
I suppose we have to count ourselves lucky that she passed in her sleep and without great pain. We're not so lucky that her funeral will have to take place in such a trying period. Over the past few days I've heard from lots of friends and family who would be with us on the day, in normal circumstances. But these are nothing like normal circumstances, and it will be a very small gathering at her graveside, where she will finally join my dad, the love of her life.
It's sometimes hard to think of your parents as loving things as we do. My mum was quite an emotionally guarded person, but I know that she loved life. She loved her family, she loved her friends, she loved to knit, she loved to chat, and she loved a scurrilous piece of gossip.
I read once that as your parents get older, the best thing that you can do is tell them you love them as often as you can. I hope that message got through to mum, because we loved her very much and we will all miss her enormously.
