Mother`s Story

In the interest of fairness I will tell my Mother`s story as best I can from what I know.

She was born in 1927 to a working class Black Country family, the second youngest of 7 children. My Granny was long suffering, not in the best of health and I dare not imagine what her life was like, or the children's. 

 By all accounts my Grand Father was a drinker and a socialiser, a man with a temper, quick with his fists and he liked the best of everything, the children came last. I was told he was a crane driver and it was a well paid job for a working class man so they should of been quite comfortable but he spent the money elsewhere and so the children went to bed hungry and cold and wore hand me downs and ill fitting shoes.

He went out wearing spats and carrying a cane, quite the toff.

If he was narcissistic and I can only surmise that, then that may have been where the seeds where sown with my Mothers issues. 

As the years passed the children tried to get away to a better life. 4 girls and 3 boys, I girl emigrated to Australia, 2 became Nannies, working away, one in London where she settled and married, the other moved to the countryside with her placement, that left my Mother who was thin and frail and ill a lot. She couldn`t seem to hold down a job as 
unreliable as she was and she was generously supported by her brothers. The young brother married a local girl, one brother started a new life in New Zealand though tragedy was ahead and the other brother, having been head boy at his school, secured a draughtsman`s job and lived at home. There is another sad part of this story too.

My Grand Father eventually hung himself, God Rest his Soul.

And my Mother lived at home, in and out of a job, being kept and cared for by her own Mother and brothers. At some point she had a breakdown and spent some time in a psychiatric hospital. She must of been a lot to cope with for her family. When my Father came on the scene they were by all accounts very welcoming and encouraging, eager for her to leave the nest and forge an independent life of her own. 

I will say that she once touched on the dread they all felt when her Father came home, she shared a room with them when she was younger and she once seemed upset when she said `the things that used to go on in that room`

I know she didn`t have a good start in life and I`m sure she was damaged because of it. Sadly she allowed the cycle of abuse to continue instead of breaking the chain.

Maybe that`s just one of the reasons she was unable to have any bond with me like a normal Mother, perhaps she saw me as having the life she was denied so she denied it me too.