And so its Mothers Day. It's one of those days that produces a complex reaction emotionally in me ...if like myself you are a bit of a social media addict it is hard to stay under its radar as timelines are understandably full of references to it. My mother died six years ago after a slow grind of bodily disfunction that had rendered her an invalid for the last ten years or so of her life, during which time she had been lovingly cared for by my father (now in his late eighties) until she had to go into a nursing home where she spent the last year of her life. I have always been oddly conflicted over my mothers death. At the time I was going through the very early and intensely traumatic phase of marital seperation...during the last few weeks of her life I was staying at my fathers, ostensibly (as far as the outside world was concerned) because he needed the support whereas in actual fact my life was falling apart at the seams. Her final weeks were a in some ways a distant back drop to what was really happening...the break up of my family and the disintegration of my sanity. At least that's what it felt like. When my mum finally passed...peacefully...my overwhelming sense was one of relief, not just because her suffering was at an end or that my father would no longer have the constant, grinding to and fro from the hospital at all hours that was taking its toll on his health but largely because it was one less problem to have to deal with, one more horrible and emotionally wrenching thing checked off the list I was keeping in my beleaguered head. I don't remember that much about the days surrounding her death...only that I did not...could not...grieve. It was all too much you see...and I was too busy I guess grieving for for my own family life which was dying in front of me...or at least preparing for the full grief of that which I knew was coming. There was a sense off unreality as well since no one outside of a few close friends knew the full situation...my wife and kids were at the house, attended the funeral etc as if everything was normal...there's no doubt that that didn't help the situation. My father knew of course and I'm not sure how it affected him at the time...I never had the courage or the mental wherewithal to ask him...nor have I since. The marital situation with all its twists and turns would drag on for several years after those few days but as each Mother's Day comes and goes it serves to remind me (if I really needed it) that I have never really come to terms with my mothers death...at least not in the way that I feel I need to. In an odd way I almost feel cheated a bit...that the other stuff going on at the time was so overwhelming and all consuming in its its impact that I was somehow robbed of having a "normal" reaction to my mums passing. Her death felt like it had to be filed away until such times as I was able to deal with it properly. Of course that time has never really come. Maybe that's because I'm selfish or just continually preoccupied...or perhaps it's that I don't really want to think too much about it now that time has passed...that it's safer just to leave it there and not stir up old emmotions when there is plenty of "new" stuff to assault my mind. I have never sat and cried over my mums loss...not specifically...but there have been tears over other things and during those fleeting moments she comes into my mind and I am certain that some of the loss I am feeling is for her. Perhaps I will have to be content with that. Perhaps I should be. I put a very old picture of her and my dad up on my FB status today...I rarely share personal photos and did not plan it...and perhaps this blog is a reaction to that. I don't know. My parents had a "good " relationship. They loved and cared for each other and were comfortable and at ease in each other's company over nearly 50 years of marriage...qiuite an achievement. I'm pretty certain they both felt loved and valued by the other. An even bigger achievement. That photo reminde me of that which is maybe why I chose to post it.
Happy Mothers Day.
