Miss my Mum, our arguments, and laughs
My Mum, Jo, died on 12 June 2012, so I am still very raw. She was elderly (age 86) and her health was terrible. We expected her to die, of course, but now she has and I can't cope.
She was always a very strong spirit, very protective of her family, and not very demonstrative. We were different ends of the scale, and often disagreed with each other, and she hated to be wrong! She would often say to people, "I am going round Stella's for a cup of tea and an argument!". However, as she got old, she became softer and far more loving. Her face would literally light up when I went to see her, and she would wave me off until she could no longer see me. I can visualise her so easily watching me drive away and it hurts.
I have suffered from depression on and off since age 16, which I cannot deny was probably made worse by incidents when I was tiny. When I was two years old apparently I would stand up in my cot and call to my Mum, and then wet the bed. Today, none of us even expect our two year olds to be dry at night, but then it was expected, as doing laundry was so much more difficult. One day when I called her she smacked me, and refused to speak to me for a whole day. I can actually remember tugging at her skirts, and her telling me to "go away" as I was a "dirty girl", and she "didn't love me". I think this scarred my psyche for life. She was very proud of doing this, and often told the story of how I was dry every night after this.
The thing is, she never meant any harm, she was just ignorant of the damage she was doing. Throughout my childhood and beyond my brother was always favoured by her, but, strangely, toward the last few years, I was the light of her life! I have had five children who she loved also. She always has had a great sense of dry humour, was very intelligent, and capable of virtually anything at all! Like my Darling Dad, who we lost a few years ago, she was generous to a fault.
I nursed her toward the end, and I am filled with grief for her, and just wish I could hug her tiny, frail body once more. The last thing she ever said was to me "Navy suits you" (I had a navy blue top on). I just can't forget the look in her eyes later on that day, she just wasn't there anymore. She died the following morning.