Hugs
My Mum died a few years back and Elaine, my psychotic sister took it upon herself one day to get my Mums ashes and scatter them across the beach in Torquay we used to go when we were kids. It must have been a really lovely thing for her to do but she never told me, so I wasn’t there.
My Father called me once after my Mum died. He told me that my Mum had died. Actually, I can’t remember if he called or not. I may have made that up thinking that he was probably really nice and called me to be close to his family. I do know that they were keeping my Mum alive so that I could go and see her in Plymouth but by the time I got anywhere near Plymouth, they’d switched her off. It was probably dinner time and they couldn’t wait for me.
Later I found out that they’d struggled really hard to call me, to confide in their decision to switch her off early because it was dinner time but the mobile phone that I have on me all the time was switched off. They don’t know that I know they didn’t call me. They made that up. When people call me and I don’t answer or if the phone was off (like when it’s new in the box, in the shop!), I get an urgent SMS message telling me that someone had tried to call me. Nobody called that day. My sister, the sister that was closest to my Mum and the one that we call psycho, was very warm to me after my Mum died. She told me that she’d look after me and that she’d find a nice piece of jewellery of my Mother’s so that I could have something of my Mum’s (I guess so that I’d never forget her kindness and warmth) but she forgot to give me anything so I don’t remember.
My relationship with my Dad was always strained. A miserable whiskey drinking bully if there ever was one. I thought I would try again with him and give him a second chance, now that he had a new lady, a few weeks after Mum had died. I took my own family to stay with them and we had a lovely weekend. Then psycho discovered this and sent me an email full of swearing and shouting. She told me that I didn’t care about her.
My Father had been giving psycho’s children a monthly allowance for their university schooling budget and I thought it would be a good idea to discuss how this arrangement might fit with my children. We had taken them out to dinner, this time to the Grand Hotel in Torquay and I broached the subject after a couple of bottles of expensive red wine. He wasn’t pleased that I had discussed this with him. He told me that the subject hadn’t crossed his mind and that he’d have to think about it.
Well, that was two years ago and the telephone hasn’t rung and no letters have arrived. He must still be thinking about it. Maybe I shouldn’t ask awkward questions. Actually, we haven’t talked at all in that time, so he must be thinking really hard about that one.
As a small boy, I had a real mummy, just like everyone else’s except mine was better. She was pretty, she smoked long cigarettes and everyone loved her. She was certainly very clever even when she shouted at me. Some days she would hold me and make me feel all loved and I would just gaze at her in wonderment that I was so lucky to have the best mummy in the world. Other days she smacked me across my head, making me deaf for a moment.
But we would spend time together, just her and I. She was everything to me. When I was sent to boarding school, I missed her so much. I remember writing to her, tears rolling down my face on to the writing paper, pleading to come home and that I missed her so much. She told me that boarding school was a privilege and ten year olds like me should love it. If I was strong and grown up then I’d enjoy the school.
Once in a while, she would come and visit to take me home for a long weekend or holiday. I would count down the days. Each night, I would bore my dorm mates about my Mum and how she would be coming to see me soon. Finally, on the day in question, I would be frantic, waiting by the road, sometimes soaking wet in the rain and I wouldn’t go inside in case she thought I wasn’t happy to see her. I would watch every car in case it was my Mum. Eventually, I would see the car, with my very own Mum driving it. I would start waving frantically, my heart exploding out my chest. I would be so very excited to see her. I knew she would be so happy to see me too but often she was in a rush and held back her love courageously so that I would have to catch my breath and wait for the love to come out later – or even another day. Or never.
Over time, I realised that the love that she gave to me when I was a little boy, and the love that I gave to her when I was a child had all gone. I didn’t know where it went. It was dead. It all magic’d away. It never came back and I tried so hard, even shouting like she did, but it didn’t work.
Now it’s like a dream. It’s like it happened in a previous life. I can’t believe that once I really did have a wonderful Mum who would hold me, laugh with me and tell me that I was beautiful. But she stopped doing those things and it all went away. I was alone. All the love gone. She had no idea.
And then I never had a Mum.
Post Script
The woman who claimed to be my Mother, financially disowned me and my elder sister by writing us out of her will. Actually, that’s a technicality, we were left 5% each. She never told us though and we carried on with our fake relationships until the day she died. The man claiming to be my Father together with Psycho never told me about the will. My wife wrote to the probate office only recently and paid for a copy of the will because as she put it, she “smelled a rat”. In any case, the part of the Will that demonstrates her “love” for me wasn’t executed because the man claiming to be my Father, outlived her and is apparently still alive. 70% would have been inherited by Psycho (for accuracy, see note at the bottom of page), who had spent the previous 50 years of her life plotting and scheming against her siblings. A Cuckoo.
So. Help me put some love back into the world. Hug your spouse, hug your friends and hug your lovely children.
Callum xx
NB: The Will split the estate 50% to Psycho and 10% each to her two children (70%). My elder sister and I would have inherited 5% each with the remainder of the estate being split amongst the remaining Grandchildren at 5% each.
