It was quite a nice residential home. She had her own first floor room and the staff - who mainly came from Bulgaria and The Philippines - were great. For some odd reason, Mum imagined that they all came from Kosovo.
If you are interested, I blogged about the end of my dear Mum's life here and here and here. She was eighty six years old when she died. I still think of her as a warrior. She taught me so much that I would not know where to start.
In the old folks' home, they sometimes sold off, at bargain basement prices, the left behind belongings of those residents who had shuffled off their mortal coils. It was at one of those sales that Mum bought a "Winnie the Pooh" glass. Typically, it was an act of kindness. She wanted our daughter to have it as a gift. Trapped in an old people's home - what else could she buy?
Frances was on the verge of leaving home to begin her student days at The University of Birmingham and didn't want to take a used Pooh glass with her so it stayed here in the family home.
It has been upstairs on our bathroom window sill for nineteen years now and hardly a night goes by without me drinking a few gulps of water from it. And I swear that every time I do that, I think fondly of my mother. It has become a constant reminder of her existence. Once she was here.
⦿
I have things (primarily related to baking) which remind me of my mother every time I use them. And I use them frequently. Most of them are between 45 and 50 years old now and were gifts my Mom gave me for my first apartment.
ReplyDeleteAs you bake, perhaps you can hear your mother silently whispering, "Well done Debra! Perfect." or "Not like that Debra!"
DeleteI'm sure you could buy it online, or Ian could source it for you. I had a look but by entering the name, the results came back in French, so that was a enough salt effort for the day.
ReplyDeleteWith some detective work I have managed to source some from a food company in London and it should be delivered to Pudding Castle in the next few days. Same company but a different design. I hope I picked the right one.
DeleteI like the photo of your Mom which shows a very vigorous woman. Small things make a big difference in our memory of people.
ReplyDelete"Vigorous" would be a good word for her... until she approached the final curtain.
DeleteI thought my little bottle of Angostura bitters would last my whole life. Then for some reason the man I live with threw it out. Boy did I resent having to buy a replacement.
ReplyDeleteWhy did you choose to live with a brutish philistine? Serves you right old chap!
DeleteThe photo of your mum with Ian and Frances is just wonderful! And the Piglet glass is sweet.
ReplyDeleteThe framed picture sits on a prominent cabinet in our dining room as a daily reminder of a feisty woman I loved and who continues to influence my life. I am sorry that things were not similar for you Jennifer.
DeleteExcuse me Sir Grammar King, I believe you have your worst and worse mixed up in that final paragraph. It should be "if worse comes to worst". And why not order the item yourself online?
ReplyDeleteYes I know, sentences are not supposed to begin with "and". The only thing I have from my mother is her big wooden rolling pin that she used every week when making apple strudel.
British English: If the worst comes to the worst (The original and historically accurate form).
DeleteAs for beginning sentences with "And" - I am very aware that many grammarians insist that this is taboo - but that is partly why I do it. English grammar is forever evolving and I am not the only capable writer who pushes that particular boundary. After all, this is 2026 and not 1826.
And (!) here's me wondering whether I am the only one to see Phoebe in young Frances. Probably not.
ReplyDeleteI have such daily reminders of my grandparents in that my plates and glasses are from their household, as well as the 1960s coffee table and 1930s cabinets in my living room. When out walking, I think of my Dad every time I spot a buzzard or other bird of prey, since he taught me so much about them. Also, I cherish very much the very last gift I recieved from him, a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a fox. That was for my 50th birthday, and in September of the same year, his downward spiral started to accelerate and he became unable to go out on his own and buy gifts for his beloved "girls" and his wife.
You are not alone in seeing Phoebe in young Frances! For a brief moment when I first saw the photo I thought it WAS Phoebe.
DeleteAnd ,again I am agreeing with Librarian.....yes I also thought that Frances looked so much like Phoebe!
ReplyDeleteWell as an adopted child with three stepmothers, I haven't got things to look back on but memories. Am I envious of solid family relationships, yes and no because my story has changed over the years. But 'things' are a precious reminder.
ReplyDeleteOur loved ones never truly die, as long as we have memories, objects, music and smells to remind us of them. It is lovely that you think of your mum whenever you drink out of that glass.
ReplyDeleteNeil, I went back and read your three posts about your mother's passing. The fact that you couldn't be at her bedside when she passed is heartbreaking. I love that you still have that Winnie the Pooh glass and that it reminds you of what a great mother you had.
ReplyDeleteI have things that remind me of my mother who passed away in 2007; things she hand painted, a blanket she crocheted when I was in high in the last century. And I have a small rosary hanging from my rearview mirror. I'm not religious, my mother wasn't religious, and the rosary wasn't even hers, it belongs to Carlos. But for some reason it reminds me of my mother and I touch it and say Hello to her every time I get in the car!
ReplyDeleteNice memories of your Mom. I like that photo of her with your children.
ReplyDeleteI read your three posts and it strikes me that death shouldn't be so hard. Your poor mum, lying in a bed with bedsores. She sounded like she was an amazing mum who did so much better than her own parents, and who made you feel so loved.
ReplyDeleteThat's a lovely photo of your mum and your children. I imagine they also felt that love from your mum as well. It doesn't seem to matter how much time has passed when it comes to missing someone. It's a lovely post.
Take the train to London, the Eurostar to Lille, rent a car, book a Gite for a week, there is so much to see and do, and it is so close to home for you. I would aim for shoulder season, the prices are lower and places less crowded. We rented a Gite in Normandy for a week a few years ago, a WONDERFUL adventure.
ReplyDeleteI wish that the things I have of my mother brought me good memories, good feelings. They simply don't. But I do respect her in the knowledge she did the best she could but somehow, things just soured in her.
ReplyDeleteI bet you can mail-order the salt! I can see why that glass is precious to you, with those memories attached. Funny what objects become meaningful in our lives.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. It brought back the emotions from my own mother's death a year ago. Every time I look across my family room I see the chairs where I often sat to chat with my parents. Those poignant memories hit at odd times.
ReplyDeleteThose little traditions define us all. Bet the salt is online somewhere. We use salt we bought from a posh provisions shop in Aberaeron, we pop in when we visit which is quite regular.
ReplyDelete