At the boarding school I went to we had to go to chapel every morning, and the rather stern headteacher used to sometimes use the occasion to make whole school announcements. On one of these occasions, when I was about eleven years old he said:"I'd like you all to pause and think of Eleanor this morning, as her mother died last night". I actually felt physically sick, and looked at him in horror. I just couldn't work out why he would have chosen to tell me about my mother's death in front of the whole school. He caught my eye, stuttered, and then said "I mean Eleanor M____" I have honestly never been more relieved in my whole life than I was at that moment. There were 4 Eleanors at my school at the time, so for him to only use her first name to say such a thing was unforgivably clumsy. I can only imagine that the other two Eleanors whose mother's also hadn't died presumably had the same terrified reaction as me. I never spoke to either of them about it though, because I was eleven.
I often think of the other Eleanor, and one of the things I most remember about her is the time I saw her laughing and joking with her friends a few days after she had returned to the school after the funeral. I spoke to my mum about it - as I couldn't understand why she wasn't crying all the time. My mum explained to me that grief doesn't work like that - that you can have days after a bereavement where everything seems fine, and then have other days where you fall apart because you have been floored by something seemingly minor, such as the smell of someone's perfume, or a vivid memory.
What my mum didn't really manage to get through to me though, was that those days can carry on for years and years after someone’s death. Today marks the 21st anniversary of my mum's death, and every so often, even after all this time, something will happen that makes me catch my breath at the realisation of how much I miss her. Last Christmas, for example, I made peppermint creams for the first time in more than twenty years, and when I tried one I was instantly transported back to my childhood. I could see the hundreds of homemade sweets that my mum had made for one party or another, and smell the sugar and the homemade marzipan, and feel the excitement that I was going to be allowed to try some of them. And then I just wished that she could be there to see me carry on some of the traditions that she started
(For the record, none of the kids liked my peppermint creams, but I’m going to make them again next Christmas because all the adults loved them.)
I must admit that those fleeting recollections are not always sad though, as it means that my mum lives on in my memory. Her father died before I was born, but she talked about him so regularly and so vividly, that it feels as if I knew him. And I am really pleased that I have been able to do the same for my children about my mum, even though she died 10 years before my first child was born.
I had an opportunity to talk to the kids about my mum recently, when I spent some time going through her old diaries as part of a further decluttering process. While doing so I came across her many, many diary entries about Brownies. She was a girl guide as a child, and then stated volunteering at a Brownies group when my brother and I were very young. She had progressed to being Brown Owl by the time I was old enough to join myself, and I still remember how excited I was to be able to finally join in as a “proper Brownie”.
There is much excitement in our house now about Brownies, as the 5yo has been going to Rainbows since May last year and the 8yo has been going to Brownies since November, which they both enjoy enormously. So when I found a thank you card in my mum’s diary which had been signed by all the Brownies in her group it was really lovely to be able to show it to the kids and talk to them about how their late grandmother had been involved in something that they enjoy today.
Although I do feel sad today when I reflect on how long it is since I had my mum available on the end of the phone, I also feel proud that I can honour her memory in so many lovely ways.
I don’t know if I will write a post about my mum every year, but I did write one last year, on the 20th anniversary of her death, and that is what prompted me to write another one this year.
Comments