I was very fortunate – I enjoyed a very positive relationship with both of my parents. As I’ve said before on these pages, my relationship with both of them matured into a friendship, first and foremost. The parent/child dynamic evolved into holidays together and evenings spent out of choice not any sense of duty. For that, I will always be very grateful. Not for me, Philip Larkin’s experience in This Be The Verse – one of the most famous opening lines in modern poetry.
Of course, my relationship with Mum changed in the last years of her life. Conversation gave way to shared joy over music and, for a time, sport. I spent this morning speaking to a student who is working on a dissertation on how to improve social care in the UK. Now there’s someone who likes a challenge! We talked of how Mum responded to music and cricket and she told me how her grandfather, in his later days, would respond positively to videos of Welsh rugby and the sound of a male voice choir. Connections – warm and life-affirming.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents recently. Alongside the friendship and sense of equality which developed, there was still the common sense, the advice, the non-judgmental response. If ever I wasn’t sure what to do, I could rely on them for support and an answer – or several in my father’s case: “When I was working at ……….. .”
My mind goes back to the day when my A-Level grades fell short of what I needed to go to university, or at least, the university I’d set my heart on attending. Briefly, I was paralysed by a sense of failure but Mum took over. With minutes, or so it seemed, she’d fixed up an interview for me at my local Polytechnic. These were the days before the internet so there was no online clearing to consult. She just picked up the phone, found out whom she needed to speak to, got through to them and that was that – all while I was mopping miserably in the corner. It turned out to be the ideal solution. Much, much later, when Mum needed to move into a care home, I hope I moved with similar speed. I know, like she’d done all those years before, I just wanted the best possible outcome. Mum (like Dad) – a constant, loving support.
Recently, I’ve found myself at another crossroads and I’ve missed Mum and Dad more than ever. Don’t get me wrong, I know what I need to do but I’ve missed that support, that desire to listen, really listen.
I was chatting to an old friend yesterday and realised that nothing ever replaces that relationship – not marriage, not friendship. I have plenty of support – I couldn’t ask for more – but parental love is unique. Not everyone is blessed with what I had and perhaps losing Dad, suddenly, to cancer and Mum, gradually, to dementia was more painful as a result.
But I wouldn’t have missed the love and joy for the world.
shesstillmymum 