My Mother’s Words – Little Legacies

My mum was a communicator.

You knew where you were with her. That could be a good or bad thing. If she was in good humour, she would have you hysterical giggling as she pushed the boundaries with ribald humour. If she was not in a good humour, her use of language could reduce you to tears very powerfully.

Mum loved school but had to leave aged 12 so with words she was largely self-taught.

She clearly remembered learning to read and how she had seen a tin of toffees and mispronounced the brand name as “supper” instead of “super” and how her older brother had laughed at her mistake.

When she went into the mill (very much against her will but there was no money to send her to Grammar School due to the same brother “taking the King’s shilling”), she decided she would take her education into her own hands.

She used to spend her wages on the Reader’s Digest which had a list of words and she used to learn the meanings and commit them to memory.

Later, this lady would mix with people at Cambridge University, at Glyndebourne and amongst the Kensington glitterati. She held her own verbally, never coming across as uneducated. In fact, she was very well equipped to blow holes in other people’s arguments.

Of course, Mum was a Yorkshire woman through and through. So for much of my childhood, she was “Mam” rather than “Mum”. She would tell you not to walk on the “causa edge” in case you fell in the road. She would ask you to close the “pull-ons”. She would refer to “ginnells” a host of other words that are not UK wide. Of course, I did not become aware of this until I left home aged 18.

Mum was certainly an avid reader and loved her Catherine Cookson books, Forever Amber and Gone with the Wind. Basically, it seemed to me that if it involved a girl born in squalor, impregnanted by the local early but saved by a good man, it was right up mum’s street). She had a bookshelf in her bedroom that included a copy of the Thorn Birds. In public, she expressed that the whole idea of the book and film was disgusting so it was odd that she had a copy lol. I never remember her showing interest in non-fiction books particularly.

Mum advised me that I should always read “because it is impossible to be lonely when you have a good book on the go”.

Mum’s words – ones that taught, ones that comforted, ones that made facts fit her particular opinion on a matter, ones that cajoled, ones that wounded, ones that made me wish she could be easier on me and herself.

Mum wrote to me at various points in my life. I remember her telling me that one of Dad’s work contacts had a baby girl “so now he will know how lovely it is to have a little girl”. She gave me a voucher for Bon Marche when I was 40 and sent me specific instructions how to use it practically in words of one syllable. She never had much faith in me that way. She sent me an anniversary card on our first anniversary knowing it would be the last she wrote to me. In her wonderful curly writing (“I was taught by nuns you know”) she referred to the magical quality of our wedding day and how much had already changed. It was very poignant and I have kept it.

Mum was terminally ill for 6 months and we talked during my Friday night visits that I would do so that my Dad could have some respite and go out to choir. Illness and morphine made her gentler. Important words were said on those visits.

“When I said P was a loser, I got it wrong” about Him Indoors followed by “Tell him but only after I have died”.

“I am proud of you because your children are the happiest I have ever known”

“I spent far too much of my life cleaning”

“I am happy to die because I have seen all the places I wanted to see and done all the things I wanted to do”.

And her very last words to me ever…

“I will hand you back to your Dad now”.

Super Busy MUm
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9 Comments

  1. storminakcup September 30, 2011 / 1:55 pm

    I have goosebumps and a lump in my throat. Lovely post xxx

  2. dogbombs September 30, 2011 / 2:33 pm

    As last words go, they’ll do nicely.

  3. MrsBellers September 30, 2011 / 3:28 pm

    Very moving post. She sounded like a very special lady who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind x

  4. londonmum September 30, 2011 / 7:45 pm

    what a lovely tribute to your mum. She sounds like a very interesting person to have known and you were lucky to have had such a great mum. Moved me very much to read this. I nearly lost my mum about 10 years ago and we were very fortunate that she pulled through. It has made me much more close to her and I value all the time and the words I hear from her.

  5. Glasgow Mummy October 1, 2011 / 11:56 am

    What a lovely post. My mum died of cancer when I was 19 years old, she was diagnosed when I was 16 and was ok for a while but then deteriorated badly over 3 or 4 months until she passed away. We never properly spoke about her illness and the fact that she was dying and I wish so much that we had done. I guess they (my mum & dad) thought me and my little sister (17 at the time) were too young to understand. There are so many things now that I wish I could ask her about her past, about me growing up (my dad’s useless at that sort of thing!) and even simple things like recipes she used to make…One of the worst things were that we got the phone call from the hospice to say that she had died in the middle of the night and no-one was with her. I feel awful about that to this day.

  6. Alexander Residence October 6, 2011 / 8:45 pm

    Wow, this post blew me away, your mother sounds an amazing lady. Each week I get a stronger sense of her, and of your relationship. You write beautifully about her, I think she would be very proud of your way with words. Sorry another week slipped past, I found a letter mum wrote me before her first operation to remove her first brain tumour, it threw me a bit 🙁

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