I had two Mums: The one who was organised, never forgetting birthdays of family and friends, always thinking of the needs and comforts of others, especially in terms of food. Whenever we came to visit from Devon after work on Fridays, arriving quite late, we would be offered soup and salad. It seemed rude to refuse!
The other mum, of whom I had glimpses, especially in the last few years, was a mother of strong emotions, especially love. This mother was often hidden through extraordinary self-control, the degree of which only became truly apparent to me following this testing last two years.
Sometimes you only really get to know someone in difficult circumstances
Mum formed an amazing bond with dad, both coming from extremely different backgrounds. Born in Cornwall, Mum was brought up in India, attending boarding school for 9 months of the year from the age of 4. This, as you can imagine, had a huge effect on her.
She then moved to England, where she attended secondary school. She spent much of her childhood seperated from some, if not all her family.
In 1942, at the tender age of 18, she lost her mother whom she loved very much and met this exotic foreigner, Dad, who through some quite bizarre circumstances, ended up in the RAF whilst mum was in the WAAF.
Dad passed the curry test. This involved persuading suiters to take her for a chinese meal. Most of these gentlemen would be unaquainted with spicy food. She would order something hot and end up eating the lot, that is, until she met "Old Iron Stomach" himself. The rest as they say is history.
Clive was born before the end of the war, and I know from our own experience what a shock it is to have a baby, one is never prepared, but mum did not have the backup that we did, so she had to learn on the job.
After the war, the family went to Africa to join my Polish grandparents who had been refugees and were settled in Northern Rhodesia.
In the early years they were very poor, and supplemented their income by making and selling sandwiches.
10 years after Clive, I came along, and following subsequent conversations with her, one can only imagine that there must have been a twinge of disappointment when the realisation dawned that she had not given birth to Alison, as she had hoped, but to Jonathan.
We finally came to England after independance, and settled in Marlow, after having lived in 7 towns on 2 continents in my first 11 years.
Marlow became home. Mum told me that she chose Marlow as a place to settle permanently and in due course came to love the town and even more the people. After a lifetime of an almost nomadic existence she had finally laid down roots.
My relationship with my mother was not always easy as the hormones of puberty stirred in me and mid-life issues arose in her. I shall always be grateful, however, that during this time her sharp mind and her love of the arts, history and current affairs led to some stimulating discussions. She would not hesitate to point out any contradictions or flaws in my arguments during our debates. She had a very sharp mind despite her lack of higher education.
Many of you may not know the radical feminist that she became during this time. She read Germaine Greer and subscribed to Spare Rib and she instilled in me a great respect for women. At this moment, I have no doubt she looking down in approval at the Reverend Wendy.
As far as I know she never burned any bras.
The last 2 years had been extremely difficult for Mum. Following a flood in the house and having to be housed in a hotel for 3 months, she was extremely upset. Then 18 months ago Dad was rushed into hospital and ended up in Intensive Care at Wycombe. Mum became extremely ill and was hospitalised herself at Stoke Mandeville. My father died the following week the day after their 70 wedding anniversary.
Clive’s family and our family went to break the news to her and were astonished by her response, which was ‘Thank God’. She was thinking first and foremost of Dad and not her loss. This is a measure of the grace of the woman.
Similarly 6 months later as Clive was dying, and knowing that hearing is the last sense to go, she spoke to him on the phone to express her love for him. This was reciprocated when she was breathing her last when Marie, Maeve and Amy who were in Majorca, spoke to her on the telephone.
Later she had to endure a nightmare two months around Christmas in hospital, breaking her arm and hip and having pneumonia. In fact we nearly lost her several times during this period. She became very concerned that she would live forever.
Despite all this, our conversations face to face or on the telephone were begun by asking how we were and if we ever talked about Dad or Clive it would be in a dignified fashion, despite the emotional pain she was feeling.
It is gratifying to have spoken to people who have only met mum in the last 18 months and have said how meeting her has touched them. Despite her unhappiness and her feelings of loss she has still managed to make a difference in other peoples’ lives.
At this point I would like to say a big thanks for the outstanding care Mum has received at Meadowside, and to the family and friends who have supported her and us during this time, in particular, Maureen whose selfless friendship made a massive difference to Mum and to our ability to manage her affairs. Also to sister Diana for her constant support.
Finally an anecdote that illustrates the one word I would use to describe Mum. During her Illness last February, when her sodium levels were extremely low and she was barely conscious, and confused, we were waiting for the doctor to come. Maeve and I were helping her from the loo to her bed when she stopped, looked to her right and said, “Don't forget draw the curtains”. Even in extremis she maintained her dignity.
By Jonathan Lawrence