My Parents

I am going to devote this section to relationships. I will focus on my relationship with my parents  as a first step. Vern will then do the same with his parents. I think the relationships we have or have had with our parents probably images the relationships we have with our children and our husbands and wives.

In my opinion if you are the eldest child in a family you would have a different relationship with your parents than if you were a middle or youngest child. I am the eldest child and have two younger sisters. 

My Relationship with Mum

I have always felt that the bond I had with my mother was an extremely close one.  My mother and I had very similar personalities. We did not express our love for one another in words. We just knew there was something special between us. Just a look between us and we knew exactly what the other person was thinking. I liken this bond to the one that exists between twins. We did not need to say ” I love you” as reassurance. We just knew it was that way. My hurt was her hurt. My problems were her problems. My achievements were her achievements. When my mum was not well, I also suffered. If she had a problem then this was my problem too. When she was happy, then I was happy. We both had the same quirky, playful sense of humour which still exists with me to this day. 

My Relationship with Dad

The relationship with my father was completely different however. Emotionally he was quite distant and he found it difficult to show any feelings towards his family. I know that he did care about us all but he just couldnt show it.  However, I was the one he confided in if there was a problem. I was the one he looked to for help when things were not going well. Being the eldest child I felt a great responsibility to help him when he needed help. Sometimes this burden of being the eldest child completely overwhelmed me. I sometimes said to myself  “I can’t handle this problem. Can you go and consult someone else”. But I couldn’t let him down. Somehow I managed to do the best I could for him.

Death of a Parent

1986 was nearly the death of me as a person.  My mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was only 69 – far too young to die. My Nana (her mum) had lived to the ripe old age of 89. When I was told by my dad that she only had a few months to live I cried all that night. I would doze off and suddenly wake with tears rolling down my cheeks. She had told dad not to tell us, his daughters, because she did not want us to worry about her. That was how my mum was.  I wanted my mum to live forever. The next few months were just a blur for me. I was going to lose someone who had always been in my life –  someone who I could confide in and still, even when I was an adult, look after me and care for me.  As I was the eldest daughter I carried this enormous burden of somehow having to be in charge. I also wanted to protect my sisters from the great sorrow that they also felt.  I had a family to look after, I had a dad who needed support and I had a mum who needed me more than ever. 

During the last weeks of her life she would give me that “I love you” look, but also a look of  “please help me”. She never, ever complained or told us how rotten she was feeling. She just took everything that life was dishing up to her. I hoped and prayed that the end would be quick. I could not bear to see her suffering.  Finally the end did come with us, her family, sitting beside her bed. My sisters gave her a last kiss, but that was not my mum now.  In my eyes she had disappeared. I didnt know where to but she had disappeared. I could not give her a last kiss because this was not my mum.

Depression

Over the next few months I felt, as the eldest daughter, the need to look after my dad. He was suffering this great loss of his wife. His health deteriorated and the family decided he should have resthome care as he was not looking after himself.  He also did not get over the loss of his wife and our mum. During this time I suffered from acute clinical depression and just could not climb out of the deep dark hole that I had fallen into. I was constantly crying for my mum. Dad was also extremely unhappy. Life for me during this time was more than I could bear. I sometimes wished that it would all end. But I knew that I had to be here for my family. My family were everything to me and I couldn’t let them down.

My dad died 4 years after my mum. He did, however, die a peaceful death. His death did not have the same effect on me as my mum’s death. Dad died peacefully, but mum died in pain.  Even today I feel I did not do enough to lessen the pain my mum felt in the weeks leading up to her death.

Over the next couple of years I did gradually climb out of the deep dark hole. I am now a much stronger person than I ever was and have put in place my own strategies for dealing with grief and sadness. I am also now extremely interested in mental health issues. I have been there and survived.