Fifteen years ago today my mother died.
It was a Friday. Mum had been in a residential home for just over a year at that point. At the age of eighty six, she was going downhill and her death was not unexpected. We had visited her the weekend before but she could no longer hold a proper conversation and the strings that connected her to real life were either broken or frayed.
At around ten o'clock that Friday morning, the residential home phoned my workplace with an important message. I needed to get over to the home in Beverley, East Yorkshire as soon as possible as the end was clearly nigh. The only trouble is that I did not receive that message until four o'clock in the afternoon and by that time Mum had gone to join the angels.
The woman on the school reception desk had failed to pass the message on to me. She said she had called the English office phone but nobody answered. I explained that I had been teaching a class at that time and besides, as it was such an important personal message why had she not kept trying or perhaps she could have sent a messenger directly to me.?
I could and would have driven over to the residential home to be beside my mother as she passed away but I was denied that opportunity. It was typical of that school. They wanted teaching staff to give their all and more but when it came down to conveying a momentous message to a loyal member of staff, they could not manage it.
Anyway, amongst the boxes in my late brother's spare room, I found that familiar photograph of my mother. It used to stand on the window sill of the dining room in my childhood home. It was taken in New Delhi, India in December 1945. She would have been twenty four years old. World War II was over and so was her service to the Royal Air Force. It was time to come home with her new husband - my father, Philip.
Mum was a strong woman who lived a fulfilling life. She was an organiser, a singer, a skilled craftswoman and a fervent Labour Party supporter. With a mother like that, her sons could never question women's equality. She proved it all the time but had a soft heart too. I still miss her and I think about her every day.
Your mother was a beautiful woman and obviously, a very fine one too. I can't believe the school did not make sure you got that message. I, personally, would have had a very hard time with that knowledge.
ReplyDeleteI have never properly articulated that terrible admin failure until now. I have tried to suppress the memory of it. A seventy mile dash to be with her may not have worked out but at least I could remember that I had made the effort. I don't suppose the school receptionist remembers this incident at all - that's if she is still alive.
DeleteMaybe it is time for the photo to receive some TLC. I wish I will be able to remember my mother in such glowing terms, but I know I won't.
ReplyDeleteWhat a sweet smile and twinkle in her eye. You can see she's off to do exciting things!
ReplyDeleteAnd she was! The way her life unfolded was remarkable given her unpromising start in a poor coal-mining community.. Thank you Marty.
DeleteI'm really sorry you didn't get to be with your Mum at the end of her life. It was completely unnecessary for you to end up carrying that.
ReplyDeleteFrances looks quite like her, doesnt she?
re. your last question, I agree. She also looked like my Auntie Evelyn on my father's side of the family.
DeleteHappy birthday to your Mom. Nice tribute to her.
ReplyDeleteThank you Red. Of course I could write so much more. She was fierce and gentle, loving and combative, resourceful and uncertain.
DeleteSounds like an amazing women.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely photo of your mother. My mum died thirteen years ago and I miss her still too.
ReplyDeleteSuch special people never fully "die" do they? They are still with us.
DeleteYour Mum looks openly at the photographer, her eyes full of intelligence, humour and an appreciation of and curiosity for life. Also, for a 24-year old, she looks really mature and ready to start a family. She and your father were great parents by everything we know about them through your blog, and you and Shirley have been (and still are) the same.
ReplyDeleteHow awful that the message was not passed on to you in time.
Your post is all the more poignant for me right now, as my Dad nearly died on the operation table and although he is out of the ICU now, his condition is far from good and his connection to reality is very random.
Oh, Meike. I'm so sorry to read this about your dad. Hugs to you, my friend.
DeleteThank you Meike and I echo Jennifer's response.
DeleteThank you, my dear friends. 🤗
DeleteShe looks lovely :) I'm glad you found that photo and sad the school didn't do the right thing.
ReplyDeleteThank you River. For all the pastoral care I doled out, I got none in return. A year later my mother-in-law died and the headmistress queried my request to attend her funeral because I had been to my mother's funeral the year before. I had the best attendance record of any teacher in the school.
DeleteWhat a wonderful tribute to your mum.
ReplyDeleteI love these old photographs. People took a lot of pride in their appearance then. Now, not so much!
Mum was wearing her RAF uniform when that photograph was taken - hence the tie!
DeleteLovely post about your mother YP. My parents died ten years ago and I still miss them, especially at Christmas.
ReplyDeleteWe cannot anticipate how the deaths of loved ones may affect us years later.
DeleteI used to find myself thinking "Oh I must tell mum about something" or "Mum will be pleased about that" for years after she had gone.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I still wake in the morning and forget that my mother is dead.
DeleteYes a beautiful post about your mother. She is full of life ready to face the world. If it was me, I should let go of that bad experience the school secretary gave you and just remember the good times.
ReplyDeleteIt may have been a fruitless dash anyway - just like Prince Andrew and Prince Edward's attempt to reach Balmoral in time.
DeleteYour mother's personality shines through in that photo! I'm so sorry you didn't receive the message to go to her in time. I can't understand how anyone at your school was so cavalier about such an important message! That's just WRONG.
ReplyDeleteI know that you would have made absolutely sure that such a message was conveyed.
DeleteHow awful that the message did not get to you in time. In my family it was my sister who failed to give us the message. For a number of reasons, she wanted to be 'the one'. To this very day she loves to tell how she was the only one who cared enough about my mother to be there with her when she died. It grieves me still to think that my mother did not know that two of her daughters did not know and would have been there. My brother did know, but did not come.
ReplyDeleteSad that your sister denied you at the end and it is sad to have to carry that memory along the road.
DeleteWell, that's a frustrating memory to say the least. I can't believe the reception desk didn't try harder! Still, at least you have wonderful memories of your mom in the prime of her life.
ReplyDeleteThanks Steve.
DeleteA beautiful tribute but sad that you weren't able to spend those last moments with her. I was fortunate to spend the last moments with my mom holding her hand while she exhaled that last breath. It has brought me a lot of peace in the craziness that has followed.
ReplyDeleteI would have liked that finality too.
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