I've just watched the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, as you know, one of my all time, favourite TV Series, and in this episode, Ellis Grey's journals, may hold the key, they may be able to unlock information, for both Meredith and for another. Ellis Grey is Meredith's Mother and passed away a few years ago leaving Meredith, among other things, a legacy of Alzheimer's and the life of a surgeon.
My Mum was also a writer, she wrote diaries, journals, for... I haven't actually counted but I'm guessing over fifty years. She showed me this wonderful box one day, it was an ordinary, cardboard box, but it was filled with time, with stories, with her words. 'When I'm gone, promise me you'll burn these.' At this point I think she may have continued to say... 'without reading them.' But I'm not certain, my memory is conveniently blurred.
I couldn't bring myself to destroy them, let alone to burn them. To me, the written word is precious, I don't care what state it's in, if the grammar is correct, if the spelling is spot on, those words are from the heart.
A few months ago, I can't remember how it came up, but I was discussing Mum's journals with my cousin Lyn. 'Read them.' What!? Really, not what I expected my cousin to say. 'Read them.'
Does she have a point? What the heck is in there? There is so much that I don't know. I do know that my Mum had a hard life, I do know that I was a late arrival and must have been quite a shock. I do know that against the odds, she decided to keep me, no matter what, no matter how I turned out.
Is there anything I could read that I'd rather I hadn't? Is there anything I could read that would make me feel differently about her?
I think I should read on.
Sunday, 16 November 2014
11.11.2014
Today is Armistice Day and my heart is poppy shaped. Thankfully, my Grandad made it back from WWI, wounded and hospitalised for a year, but he made it back, almost in one piece, and a few years later, my Mum was born.
My life's tapestry, is so intrinsically and painstakingly stitched to lives so far removed from my own. I was raised, remembering, for which I'm very thankful for, my Mum made sure of that. This year is the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of WWI.
This week, a young, 13 year old Army Cadet placed the 888,246th and last poppy in the Tower of London art installation. Never before has history been so eloquently visualised. I think of all of the boys and men, who never came home and I wonder about the sons, daughters, grandchildren, who were never to be, on all sides... depleted generations. I remember, and I will always remember.
My life's tapestry, is so intrinsically and painstakingly stitched to lives so far removed from my own. I was raised, remembering, for which I'm very thankful for, my Mum made sure of that. This year is the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of WWI.
This week, a young, 13 year old Army Cadet placed the 888,246th and last poppy in the Tower of London art installation. Never before has history been so eloquently visualised. I think of all of the boys and men, who never came home and I wonder about the sons, daughters, grandchildren, who were never to be, on all sides... depleted generations. I remember, and I will always remember.
Saturday, 15 November 2014
Pregnant.... Pause
I have always wanted kids, or at least.. kid. A few years ago, a trusted, psychic told me... (I realise I sound insane, but you know that I only visit psychics sporadically and those that are without doubt the real deal, and, it is of course, for entertainment purposes only.) Well, Ivy, who over the years, has told me only things that me and my late Mum would have known, once told me to; 'be careful you're not like you're Mum.'
What Ivy meant was that my Mum found herself pregnant, with me, at the age of 45, she was 46 when I was born.
While I was horrified at the thought of being pregnant, for the first time, at that 'great' age, quite frankly, at any age, I would have been horrified even if I'd been happily married for ten years and still only about thirtyish. But, at the same time, and I know it's easy for me to say, but I think I would have been a good Mum, terrified, but, good, well, passable, let's just say that I don't think I would have dropped them on their heads.
This year, my 44th heading, head long into my 45th year, has passed by at warp speed, time was truly running out.
One of my best, 40ish friends, who has never come across as remotely maternal announced on our latest coffee date, that she is pregnant.
I am both stunned and overjoyed for her, simultaneously. I am so, so, so, happy for my friend and her partner but at the same time, it felt like... it felt like in the midst of the heat wave we were having, that I'd been hit in the face with a snow ball. Stuns, stings for a second, snow falls away and you're fine, almost.
Have you seen the Sex and the City film, the original? Carrie phones Samantha to announce that she's getting married to Big and Samantha is curt with her. Then Samantha phones Carrie back to apologise, she was stunned and had her in a compartment, the, 'we are never getting married' compartment, and now Samantha will have to re-file her friend.
Well, that's kind of how I felt with my lovely friend. I had my friend in a file, the, 'we are never having kids file' and now, I have to re-file her, not only that, but for the best part, I'll lose her, because that's what happens. I am more than happy to lose my friend, for this wonderful cause though.
I just think, that my friend's story, is a fairy tale and it's the best news I've had, all year.
I have consoled myself with alcohol and of course, I've gained weight, which makes me wonder, am I pregnant and now, do I need to worry about foetal alcohol syndrome. Wouldn't it be ironic? I am of course being horribly unfunny, but you get my drift.
I'm OK, I started writing this a good few weeks ago, I have processed the; 'I am never having kids' scenario and while I still feel a loss, well, God knows better, just wasn't meant to be for me, this time around.
What Ivy meant was that my Mum found herself pregnant, with me, at the age of 45, she was 46 when I was born.
While I was horrified at the thought of being pregnant, for the first time, at that 'great' age, quite frankly, at any age, I would have been horrified even if I'd been happily married for ten years and still only about thirtyish. But, at the same time, and I know it's easy for me to say, but I think I would have been a good Mum, terrified, but, good, well, passable, let's just say that I don't think I would have dropped them on their heads.
This year, my 44th heading, head long into my 45th year, has passed by at warp speed, time was truly running out.
One of my best, 40ish friends, who has never come across as remotely maternal announced on our latest coffee date, that she is pregnant.
I am both stunned and overjoyed for her, simultaneously. I am so, so, so, happy for my friend and her partner but at the same time, it felt like... it felt like in the midst of the heat wave we were having, that I'd been hit in the face with a snow ball. Stuns, stings for a second, snow falls away and you're fine, almost.
Have you seen the Sex and the City film, the original? Carrie phones Samantha to announce that she's getting married to Big and Samantha is curt with her. Then Samantha phones Carrie back to apologise, she was stunned and had her in a compartment, the, 'we are never getting married' compartment, and now Samantha will have to re-file her friend.
Well, that's kind of how I felt with my lovely friend. I had my friend in a file, the, 'we are never having kids file' and now, I have to re-file her, not only that, but for the best part, I'll lose her, because that's what happens. I am more than happy to lose my friend, for this wonderful cause though.
I just think, that my friend's story, is a fairy tale and it's the best news I've had, all year.
I have consoled myself with alcohol and of course, I've gained weight, which makes me wonder, am I pregnant and now, do I need to worry about foetal alcohol syndrome. Wouldn't it be ironic? I am of course being horribly unfunny, but you get my drift.
I'm OK, I started writing this a good few weeks ago, I have processed the; 'I am never having kids' scenario and while I still feel a loss, well, God knows better, just wasn't meant to be for me, this time around.
Sunday, 2 November 2014
Winds of Change
Hurricane Gonzalo, originated in the Caribbean and blew over to Europe, causing havoc with my journey home. On Tuesday, a 35 minute drive at best turned into 2 hours 15 minutes in gales with driving rain, road closures, very wobbly, insane cyclists to look out for. I was exhausted by the time I eventually got home, buy mostly, just glad that I made it home safely.
On Wednesday, I watched the last interview with one of our best loved actresses. I suspect that Lynda Bellingham strongly disliked being best known for being 'The Oxo Mum'. For about sixteen years, the Oxo family advert ran, it was a little glimpse into a family I never had and just, so normal, so reassuring, so fictitious. Still, that advert bled into our hearts, just like the way that Christmas does.
So, Ms Bellingham is... Mother Christmas, all warm and fuzzy in my heart, part of my upbringing, part of my social history, part of my reference material. She was also a wonderful actress I might add. Still, whether she would loathe it or not, Oxo Mum she is to me, with a very fond place in my heart. Ms Bellingham was diagnosed with cancer just over a year ago and she sadly died this week. The saddest part of the interview was that she was so funny and vibrant...still. The interview was taped about two weeks away from when she was to leave us, she talked so fondly of Christmas and the plans that she had for next Christmas, just a few weeks away.
I laughed and cried through the interview. That night, I dreamt that I was given three months to live. It's either a premonition or a by product of watching the interview.
The dream was very real, I mean, that it seemed real, with no hint of a dream. I woke and had to think about reality versus the mighty Morpheus, for too long, seconds, but too long. For a nano second, I thought about having just three months left to live.
I have to say that it was an eye opener. In the past twelve months, I have wondered about not being around, just ceasing to be, I have to say that it seemed inviting. Faced with the 'reality', such as it was, of being told that I only had three months left on planet Earth, my feelings notably shifted.
On Wednesday, I watched the last interview with one of our best loved actresses. I suspect that Lynda Bellingham strongly disliked being best known for being 'The Oxo Mum'. For about sixteen years, the Oxo family advert ran, it was a little glimpse into a family I never had and just, so normal, so reassuring, so fictitious. Still, that advert bled into our hearts, just like the way that Christmas does.
So, Ms Bellingham is... Mother Christmas, all warm and fuzzy in my heart, part of my upbringing, part of my social history, part of my reference material. She was also a wonderful actress I might add. Still, whether she would loathe it or not, Oxo Mum she is to me, with a very fond place in my heart. Ms Bellingham was diagnosed with cancer just over a year ago and she sadly died this week. The saddest part of the interview was that she was so funny and vibrant...still. The interview was taped about two weeks away from when she was to leave us, she talked so fondly of Christmas and the plans that she had for next Christmas, just a few weeks away.
I laughed and cried through the interview. That night, I dreamt that I was given three months to live. It's either a premonition or a by product of watching the interview.
The dream was very real, I mean, that it seemed real, with no hint of a dream. I woke and had to think about reality versus the mighty Morpheus, for too long, seconds, but too long. For a nano second, I thought about having just three months left to live.
I have to say that it was an eye opener. In the past twelve months, I have wondered about not being around, just ceasing to be, I have to say that it seemed inviting. Faced with the 'reality', such as it was, of being told that I only had three months left on planet Earth, my feelings notably shifted.
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