On a visit to their house in the first year of my Son`s life I had a pack of photos with me, I had not removed any photos from the pack to make them Mother proof yet and by accident there were a couple of my 1st Son`s grave in them, from his birthday when I would have a number flower wreath made. I have always taken a photo as a keepsake, its all I can do to remember him and mark the years. She pounced on the photo and held it up. My stomach flipped as I saw her give this sickly sweet, fake smile and announce with secretive delight...."OH...I`VE been to THAT grave I have !", in full Actress voice. She nodded and smiled across at my Father who looked uncomfortable. There was not an ounce of shame from her whatsoever given her appalling behaviour both during and after the funeral. In fact she was quite thrilled to let slip she had visited the grave with very much a `how about that, you didn`t know that did you Amanda` emphasise on her words. I felt almost sickened with the devilment of her attitude and utter lack of accountability. I took the photos back. I felt angry I had been careless and allowed her, albeit by mistake, to be able to encroach on something as private and sensitive as my 1st Son. I simply could not bear her referring to him on any level. I also had to acknowledge I had bought it about myself for getting back in touch with her.
And so we come to the Easter duck story. Obviously she knew I went to the grave and at Easter she told me she had bought something to put on for him, could I take it when I went. I said OK, I was not comfortable with her being in any way involved but as she bought things for my other Son I felt I could hardly refuse. As it was, what she bought was quite adorable, it was a little yellow fluffy duck in wellington boots. I told her I would take it when I went with our things for Easter, which I did. The day we went it was very blustery. I had flowers for the pots, an Easter egg, some ornaments and a card. The trouble was the card was obviously blowing away, I had forgotten to bring anything to attach it with. I can`t quite remember how I did it but their was something on the little ducks outfit that I poked through the corner of the card and made it safe. I stood for a moment thinking of the words inside, ending with love From Mommy and Daddy.....it crossed my mind that it sounded as if we had bought the duck and not Grand Ma....I was always on the back foot in case she found something to trigger her temper. Then I thought, well if she wanted her name on it she would of attached a tag and I`m sure my little lad knows who the gift is from and did it really matter, all the things were on together safely and I decided I had to stop over thinking things and worrying. There was still an uneasiness though and I even thought to myself, she`s back on the scene and now I`m worrying when I visit the grave....is there nothing that she cannot taint from any distance ?
So I left it as it was. About a week later we were passing so naturally I stopped by. I had a shock. The duck and card were missing. Things had been stolen before, an ornament on occasion or a toy car. It was very upsetting the first time it happened, I could hardly bear to think there had been a thief picking over his things as he lay there alone. Odd though that nothing else was gone at all. When I next went around their house I told her...."Mom you won`t believe what someone has done....you know the little duck you bought for Easter to put on the grave?"......Silence.....She frowns, looking puzzled and innocent, she puts her hand to her face, trying to recall what I meant.....alarm bells start ringing....."The Duck you bought ?".. I prompt her....."Oh yes, you mean that one in the wellies?" she answers vaguely as if I`m asking her think back months ago...she`s up and on her way to the kitchen...a classic move when she`s trying to evade some uncovered dark deed...."Well someones stolen it".....pause...."Never, oh dear, fancy that happening" she says over her shoulder, still walking away.... And that was it, she didn`t come back in the room to face me and ask more and say how awful a thing it was, she just carried on being busy doing nothing in the kitchen. I let her think the subject had passed but when she finally came back I picked it up again. I told her they had taken our card as well and explained how and why I had had to tie it to her duck and said I knew it wouldn`t matter as I was hardly trying to make out the duck was from us....All I got was an odd...Oohhh...yesss....but I could tell she trying to hide something and when I finished she just changed the subject. She had guilt written all over her.
Why she never told me she intended visiting the grave and did it in secret I don`t know but I am certain it was her who had gone there, saw the card attached and got in a temper because she bought the duck not us and took it back off, card as well. If it hadn`t been her, she surely she would of been enraged. She had no idea things were ever stolen from there so would it not have been pretty shocking, theft from a baby`s grave, her Grand Child, her gift. And her response so casual and so avoidant. Again I thought to myself, it`s your own fault, you came back for more of this when you should of known better.
It was the oddest thing knowing I would never see her again. Its hard to describe, hard to explain. I`m certain if you have a good Mom, her passing must be a truly awful grief. Such a harrowing loss. My grief was different, there was undeniably a sense of relief, it grew with each day that passed. It felt as if I had dropped her off somewhere and now was continuing my journey without her and with each day the distance between us widened and with each day I felt a little safer. Yes actually that is exactly it. I felt safer now. Like my very being was heaving a huge sigh of relief. I felt a certain sadness too, like it was the end of en era, the end of her Reign for sure. I felt sad my children now had not one Grand Parent left, I also felt glad they would never grow to experience her abusive ways.
I was in shock too, it was such a life changing experience, like the door to the cage was now open, and yet I still sat on the perch, not knowing how to be free, not knowing how to be Me. Her words that day came back to me, I think they were the last words she ever said to me....I don`t know who I am....neither did I, which was strangely enough the very same flippant reply I gave her that day, who knew how prophetic that would be. That Christmas day... when I was so full of fear and anxiety that I would pay some terrible price because I had not softened to her and invited her over, that I was daring to get on with Christmas with my own little family, my stomach knotted, on edge every moment because I was finally trying to be strong and yet at the same time I was still so afraid. I, like my Father, was in many ways nothing more than an extension of her. I don`t think there had been a waking hour that had passed when I had not thought of her in some context.....dread, fear, confusion, anger, hate, longing, needing, hoping... I almost did not know what to do with myself. Freedom to live my life without being in her looming shadow was going to take some getting used to. So I busied myself with organising her Funeral. I had her dressed in warm clothes and a necklace her older Brother had bought her many years ago.
I thought long and hard about what to write for her eulogy. I set my hurt and feelings aside and tried to compose something that was light and did not hint at her dark side, I tried to write something that acknowledged how hard her childhood had been but remembered the comfort her siblings provided.
Her younger brother was the only one to attend her funeral, my Aunt Iris did not come. Her Brothers wife told me `it was quite lovely what was said...it was the nicest thing I have ever heard read at a funeral` she commented. I was glad. With hindsight I guess it was a little Catherine Cookson, with my mother written about in a kinder light than she deserved and perhaps I myself as the silent, unmentioned heroine, for finding it in my heart to play along with one last charade. I watched closely as she trundled off into the crematorium and the curtains closed around her....yes, that was it, she was gone. Her funeral was on the 3rd May 2007, the same day Madeline McCann went missing, I will always remember that.
I did not shed a tear at her funeral, though there was a certain sadness, there did not seem to be anything to weep about. And my Inner Child whispered..........and crying`s not allowed anyway......
It had been months since I had seen her. I think she had been home for a brief time. On Christmas day she called, we had been bracing ourselves for it. I answered and as soon as she said hello I jumped straight in and told her I imagine you want to wish the children a Happy Christmas, wait and I will go and get them, they each took a turn saying a few words to Grand Ma and when the phone came back to me I said OK then but as I was about to say Bye she hurriedly said "Wait a minute Amanda, I don`t know who I am ". "Neither do I" I replied, hung up and disconnected the phone. She was trying to feign a breakdown, she wanted me to pity her, perhaps go and pick her up and bring her to mine so she could play the poor, confused old lady, eat a huge meal, have a nap and then get taken home again with an invite for New Year and off we would go again. Sorry but not this time. I was done.
Odd that she didn`t know who she was and yet knew who I was and my phone number. The time passed and I waited for a call to say she had moved to sheltered housing and was settled and could she see the children, I would of taken them but it would not have changed a thing regarding me and her. In the end that never happened.
I had a call one night from a nursing home, the story was she had been in and out of there for months, moving to a rehabilitation unit and then back there again. This time when she had arrived back to them they were shocked at her deterioration, she had a broken arm and a bruised face from a fall and had been unwell for days, they now believed she was on her death bed and were informing me in case I wanted to go to her as I was still next of kin. When I told my Husband, his reaction was why would I want to go, after all she had done. I really didn`t want to, I only half believed she was as ill as they said as I had fallen for these types of tricks from her for years. But......inner child was whispering...what if she`s dying and wants to say sorry....what if she will tell us why she never loved us ?......Deep down I felt it was the right thing to do, I did not want to speak to her and imagined I would walk out if she tried to hoover me back in. But if this was her last ever chance to put things right....then I wanted to hear what she had to say. I had harboured a thought for years that I was not hers, or something terrible had happened to her that made her be the way she was to me.....I wanted a reason, perhaps a reason to forgive her even. I had never heard of Narcissistic Personality Disorder then. So we got my sister-in-law to come round and stay with the children and we went. The staff on the desk were frosty, no doubt sold chapter and verse about the wicked, uncaring, neglectful daughter, Me.
I went into her room and she was in bed, pale and frail and breathing shallowly, her eyes open just a little but glazed and unseeing. They bought me some gloves to wear because of the MRSA infection. I touched her arm and she was cold so I asked for a blanket. They bought one, it was well worn and tatty, as I took it I thought how she would of turned her nose up at it but it was all there was. I covered her up and tucked it around her and my heart softened just a little. I remembered how she was cold and poorly dressed as a child, it seemed unfair she was cold now too....near the end. I told her I was here and held her hand. She made no response. I sat for a while, Husband pacing about and sighing as he wondered if we would be there for hours and he did not want to be. But within a short while her breathing changed and became more spasmodic, it was laboured and I knew it would not be long. I stood by the bed holding her hand and telling her I was there. And so she slowly drew her last breath....I told her this as she died....I said...
It`s alright Mom, you`ll be OK now, Dad`s waiting and your Brother`s too, go towards the light, don`t be frightened, you`ll be OK, Granny will be waiting too, its OK, God Bless....
I looked up as I said it, imagining her soul rising up and away to a better place. I hoped she would find some peace there. For there was no peace for her in this life, nor for anyone close to her. There was a young lad at the desk, he told us they would call the funeral directors and I was given her handbag and told her other things would be packed for us to pick up tomorrow. He was quite snotty with me, I`m sure all he saw was a woman who didn`t give a damn about her aged, dying Mother. As I walked away I thought it was quite fitting really, a final act of gaslighting to make me look like the guilty one.
It felt unreal, like a dream. I sat in the car, letting it sink in that there had been no death bed confession or expression of regret.... That she was just gone and I would never know, never know why she could not love me. "That`s it then now, it`s over" my Husband said. "Yes" I replied.
I can still never decide if I did the right or the wrong thing next. I think I handled the choice I made very well, my resolve surprised even myself. But if it was entirely the right choice I just don`t know. After what she said, which hurt and degraded me beyond words, I never wanted to see her again. I gave it serious thought to do just that. I had a few doubts though and they were, What if I cut all contact and she got in a taxi and came over, causing an awful scene outside and upsetting the children, What if she showed up at the school or nursery {this was doubtful as she probably hadn`t registered which ones they attended but you never know} She was sadly the only remaining Grand Parent now, and toxic as she was the children would probably ask why they couldn`t see her any more. I did feel that I was justified in saying that they couldn`t but I really did think she would keep coming around, making suicide threats even...just how she managed to ensnare my Father all those years ago. And, my refusing her access almost gave her a cause to go weeping and wailing to any one who would listen, I would be so wicked, keeping the widow from her Grand Children...
So..I decided, after much thought, deep deep thought, that I would handle it another way.
I waited for her to call and sure enough she did. She immediately began regaling me with a very dramatic story of how she had been taken ill while out and barely made it to the taxi, pausing for my reply. Deep breath Amanda, I`m putting the phone down now I said. And I did. I knew it wasn`t the last I had heard, she was just plotting her next move. I wondered if she would send in a flying monkey, though she hardly had any left, Father dead and his sister no longer spoke to her after she tried running him down to her and was put right in her place. So the next call inevitability came. In a sharp tone she wanted to know when she could see the children. I told her a particular evening, I told her I wanted nothing to do with her but would bring the children for 1 hour so she could see them, I would be over at 5 o'clock. OK then. We both knew it wasn`t the children she wanted to see, it was to get her feet back under the table and carry on as if all was forgotten. After all she`d always got away with doing just that in the past. I knew this was going to take some hard work on my part but her cruel words regarding my abuse rang in my ears and made me determined.
I went around on the dot and made sure the children had books and toys to keep busy. I took my own book too. We went in and she beamed her sickly smile and began chatting as if nothing had happened. I ignored her and only referred to the children when I spoke. Did I want a cup of tea. No. She quickly cottoned on she was getting no change from me so she engaged with the children solely, for probably the first time ever. 5 mins to the hour I stood, collected their things and told them to say good bye to Grand ma. As I went through the door I told her I would be bring them same time next week. This went for about 3 weeks when she rang and said she couldn`t make it that night because....as she started to give me some sob story I spoke over her and said sternly we would miss this week then and make it next. Bye and I hung up without waiting for an answer. As the weekly visits came and went she tried different ploys for attention. We had the unkept, still in nightie, slow sad walk tactic. The full face of make up, I`m going to buy you this and I`m going to buy you that, directed at the children tactic. We had the constant fake cough as Grand ma had been very poorly tactic. And one time we even had the ignore all three of us and carry on knitting tactic, after 40 mins I stood and swept us all out in a matter of seconds, she hurried to the door behind me and slammed it shut when my foot was just about out.
She cancelled at some point and when I just said fine she challenged me and said quite haughtily, Is this ow ya goin be then all the time now Amanda?? Yes it is, I told her, you taunted me about sexual abuse I suffered as a child and reminded me my father chose to do nothing about it. If it was not for the children I would never see you again. And just so you know, if anyone ever wants to know why I treat you this way I will tell them exactly why, IN EVERY DETAIL, great detail in fact, WHAT YOU SAID TO ME. DON`T EVER FORGET THAT, BECAUSE I WON`T. And again I hung up. I believe there were maybe 2 more evening visits and then a nurse rang to tell me she was in hospital, I can`t remember the reason, it was the usual stunt for her, me nerves are bad , me chests bad, me tummy`s upset, I feel giddy....take your pick. Every now and then I would get a call from some medical team or other, she had been sent to a temporary care home as they were unsure they could discharged her safely to live at home, the she was in a rehabilitation centre, waiting for a sheltered housing place to come up. One nurse told me she was asking after the Grand children, she was very anxious about them as she hadn`t seen them in ages and we {meaning me and her} had had a falling out. I took a deep breath and said...Let me tell you why...I told her about what she did at the funeral, I told her about what she said about my abuse, I told her about the neglect and beatings as a child, she listened quietly and I braced myself for her to say something clinically neutral...instead she said very gently....I understand....I was so shocked and grateful to just simply be believed I broke down and had to ring off after I told her...Thank you, thank you for believing me.
Weeks later she called again to give me an update where my Mother was being moved to next. Before she rang off she told me, we have a better idea of how your Mother is now Amanda, we understand how she goes about things. She was so very nice to me, as if she absolutely understood how things must of been. It was so validating for me. I once had a call from a male nurse who told me in a very `I`m on your side` way that Mother had the MRSA virus and If I was you I would not come to see her with two young children as it wasn`t a good idea. I had not intended to visit anyway but I thanked him for letting me know. I wondered after if she had been trying to win the staff over to bully me into seeing her and this was a way of putting a stop to it, if they now had the measure of her.
The next time I saw her she was on her death bed.
I have mentioned The Armageddon phone call in a few posts. It is very significant in the history of my relationship with my Narcissistic Personality Disordered Mother. Over all the years, in all the clashes we had had, I never truly lost my temper and challenged every word of poison she spat at me until that day.
Until that day my fear of her made it impossible for me to do. I would answer back over one point and she would return with a relentless volley of vitriol and I would quickly be unable to have any logical dialogue with her and she would render me defeated, I simply could not match her vicious ranting and raving.
I was still frightened of her on the day of the phone call. In a way, years after her death, I still am. But I am getting stronger everyday. During that conversation I actually said to her... "I`m not frightened of you anymore"...."Why YOU were never frightened of ME Amanda" she replied with savage indignation. We were both lying !!! I was still frightened of her, of course I was and she new damn well I was and that I always had been !! What a farce ! It makes me laugh now.
I have no idea what is was that triggered the call. I don`t remember any events playing out that culminated in it. I think, as was often the case, it was just a minor tantrum she had and for the fist time ever I not only found my voice but I refused to let it be silenced. I was older now, turned 40. Being a Mom to my children had given me both confidence and strength but it was more than that. Motherhood gave me fresh insight into exactly what a terrible Mother my own had been. I could now equate her behaviour and reactions to how I would be in the same situation with my own children and thankfully they were incomparable. And so on that day I found my voice and would not be silenced, I also nearly blew my hoover up!!
It was actually many phone calls rather than one, many over a two hour period. I had been giving the dining room `a good do` as they say. I was pulling furniture out and hoovering the skirting boards. I took a call, the call ended, I carried on cleaning, the process was repeated again and again with {I`m chuckling as I remember it !} my cleaning becoming more savage each time and at the end I realised I had left my hoover on for the last 2 or 3 calls and it was getting dangerously hot and beginning to smell. I on the other hand was getting more and more icy. At the end of it all the room was gleaming, I don`t think it has ever been as pristine since ! I so wish I could recall what was said, there was so very much said. Most of it had been said before but never challenged in the way I did that day. All I remember is that whatever she said I was saying NO, Not true, Liar, actually you said or did...this and that...she became absolutely wild, stumbling over her words trying to continue to rant and rave but the more she did the colder and harder I became. I let her get away with nothing. I called her out on every lie she spoke. I spoke my truth without fear and with cool conviction. She must of wondered who the hell was working me. Some remembered fragments were....
You would never av ad that house if it wasn`t for My money..THAT MONEY WAS EARNED BY SOMEONE ELSE AND IT WAS LEFT TO YOU, YOU DIDNT GIVE IT US TO HELP YOU GAVE IT TO GUILT TRIP, ENDLESSLY GUILT TRIP US...
What about when ya ad that lad in our house behind our back AMANDA???..CONSIDERING YOU WERE OUT CONSTANTLY ITS A WONDER I DIDN`T GET UP TO WORSE...
And that didn`t last for long did it, just like your OTHER boyfriends, why did they always LEAVE YOU AMANDA??? WHAT A PITY DAD NEVER LEFT YOU AND GAVE US BOTH A CHANCE AT HAPPINESS.
You were always bloody trouble...I THINK WE BOTH KNOW WHO WAS TROUBLE AND IT WASNT ME....
And what about all the bedsits you lived in eh ? You mean the ones I had to find because I made the house unhappy...even though you forget to mention that part to Dad?
And how many times did you come running back home Amanda, asking for help eh ? How many times did you entice me back simply because you wanted my board money ?
There was more, much more, it was hard to keep up when it was going on let alone remember it all years later but here`s a classic...AND IF YOU WANT TO START DRAGGING THE PAST UP DON`T FORGET I HAD 12 NAPPIES ON ONE DAY IN THE FLAT WHEN I HAD A POORLY STOMACH.....Her voice changes to a sickly sweet tone, "Oh you`re quite wrong there Amanda, you didn`t have a poorly stomach you just kept doing so many wee`s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All I could do with that one was to hang up. And to think she had shamed me for a decade because when I was 2 years old I had 12 wee`s one day....WOW, what an evil, twisted Mother she was. But it was to get worse.
Her final call she brings my father into it, and somehow she ends up running him down as well {perhaps she`s annoyed that he`s rather inconveniently dead and unable to Enable her during this mammoth row} And I tell her to leave him out of it, she tells me that though he loved me, he never liked me {she`s told my Husband this in the past too} again I tell her to leave him out of it......and here it comes....the moment she crossed a line she could never uncross... Her voice goes low and she drawls the words out, savouring each syllable, softly snarling, full of spite, she delivers her fatal blow in this war of words.....
You put your Father up on a pedestal didn`t you Amanda? But he didn`t care about you did he ?
Why, he knew EXACTLY what Uncle X had done to you
.AND....HE....NEVER....SAID....A...WORD....DID HE??
Everything froze in that moment, I have probably re heard those words in my head a thousand times over the years. I put the phone down and unplugged it. I realised in that moment if I did not keep her at arms length then she would very probably take my sanity, what was left of it.
After getting in touch again when my son was born and with the awful memory of their behaviour at the funeral still not far from anyone's mind, they had not caused any huge upset since. A Mom now, I had become a little stronger and when there were the first signs she was slipping back into her old ways I was on my guard. As I begin to type this post I can feel the memory of both the bittersweet happiness and the sense foreboding both my Father and I felt on the day I am about to recall. The novelty of my adorable baby boy was beginning to wear off for her, she was realising that he was competition for the limelight and if we made plans, and I`m guessing if she could see my Father looking happy and eager to see us, she had begun to cancel at short notice because she was tired or not feeling too well. I could see what was happening.
So they were due to pop over for lunch and have an hour or two with their Grand Son but she called mid morning to say they couldn`t come as she wasn`t feeling up to it. I said OK, no problem but after ringing off it played on my mind that my Father was not even considered in this and I just knew he would of been looking forward to coming. Without knowing the proper name I sort of felt I was enabling by just accepting it. So in a moment of strength {sane reasoning more like} I called back and caught her by surprise, she answered quite cheerily, not expecting it to be me. "Mom, I was thinking, I know you don`t feel up to it but I`ll pop over for Dad anyway, he could still come and have an hour with us couldn`t he, it will give him a change of scene as you were saying he doesn't get out hardly" {she often used my Father to wrangler an invite over to mine, even if she cancelled in the end anyway} She was taken completely by surprise and faltered, unable to think of a reason to block this happening as I had worded it with such ease, she stuttered... "Well....yes..I...I suppose so....." Put him on then I said and I quickly told him I`d be over in an hour for him and rang off before he had a chance to bail on me. I pulled on the drive and he came out of the front door straight away. I surmise that she`s not impressed he had cut the strings and rather than give her the chance to be vile to me he thought he would keep us apart. He gets in the car and we pull off, I have a weird feeling she is watching us as we go. This was unprecedented, she had played the dying duck card and I had seen it and raised it by springing him free. I could hardly believe it myself.
He chatted to my lad and my lad cooed back to him. I tried to keep the atmosphere as easy and light as I could. It almost felt like we were on the run ! He stayed at mine for about an hour and a half, the last 30 mins he could not stop himself from continually looking at the clock. We had tea and a sandwich but full of anxiety and dread for what would be waiting for him on his return, he seemed to struggle to get it down. The conversation trailed away and we ended up sharing sympathetic glances at each other his seeming to say `I know you tried but it will never be any use` and mine saying `If she makes you suffer for this there hardly seemed any point did there?`. I remember that day so well. Where he sat, where I sat, the defeated sadness in his eyes, he had become so completely enmeshed with her, she cast such a long dark shadow over him. It smacked of Stockholm Syndrome. He looked quite relieved when I said shall I drop him home. He lingered over my lad though and held him on his lap a few minutes more.
When I pulled on the drive something told me I should go in. I told him to wait by the car and watch my Son a moment and I`ll go and say Bye to Mother. I went in and called We`re back Mom.... Silence. Looking about I realise she was in bed, I knock on the door and step in, shes lying with her back to me. I say "We`re back Mom, you OK?" and off we go.....
"Am I OK, AM I OK...? No I`m bloody not. Av you been keep ringin ere ?" ....Me: "No I havent rang you at all, why ? "....Her: "The bloody phone keeps going, I`ve ad to keep gerrin {getting} up all the bloody time and you know I`m not too good" Me: "Well it wasn`t me" she then begins to rant and rave all the time laying with her back to me. And then I have a light bulb moment....1471 !
She had not thought this through at all had she. Me: "Well don`t worry Mom, we will soon know who`s been messing about phoning, I`ll go and dial 1471 and see who called last and when" The SILENCE was deafening !! And guess who it was ?? Why it was ME !! That morning when I rang to ask my Dad over. I go back in and tell her just that. That I know no one has called other than me when she answered and she can check if she wants. She then seriously looses it....something about Don`t come swanning in ere being clever, n I remember ow you were when you were young....etc etc.... I tell her shes told a ridiculous lie simply because she could not bear that my Father went to mine without her and if she wishes to lay in bed, making her own life a misery then to get on with it but I`m not going to let her make mine a misery any more. {OK, now I`m lying myself!} As I turn to go she leaps from the bed and crouching down as if to spring at me, her face contorted with demonic rage she growls....yes she growls " I`m guna fetch ya Aunty Iris to ya...Ger out..GER OUT....I`m going, rest assured, but I as a step from the room I am almost bracing myself for her to spring at me, clawing at my back. That was just how she would get when I was a child, almost like a deranged animal, unless you have seen a narcissist really loose it its hard to imagine. It was quite scary for me as a grown woman who could get in her car and drive away...as a child it sowed the seeds of dread and fear and anxiety. And my inner child whispered.....I remember this......
I went outside to where my Father was, I told him what had happened and he shock his head, not in disbelief but rather in belief. I said I was sorry I was leaving him to face her, he said he was used to it after all these years and he was sorry she had done this again. The only person who never seemed sorry....... was her.
Nothing much really changed for my Mother after my Fathers death, it just meant that she no longer had to find time to visit with him every week or so. I had not been in her Bungalow for quite a while and when I did, in days after he died, I was quite shocked. There was pretty much no trace of him. When he went in the home she must have cleansed the place of his presence and reclaimed it for herself. I was expecting to see a little something of his about still but no. It was as if he had never existed. We had her to stay with us for a few days over Christmas, I was happy to have her under the circumstances and she was relatively well behaved.
She reminisced about him with charming little tales of bygone days. I`m sure there was a grain of truth in there somewhere and the rest of the details were embellished and spun to depict years of being a happy, devoted couple. The tales were a stark contrast to the vicious rows I bore witness to growing up, when she took issue with endless, bitterly remembered episodes in their courtship and early marriage. No one reinvents the past better than a Narcissist. I called her every day, waiting til late morning/lunchtime when I knew she would be up. Sometimes there was no answer and I would call back repeatedly for hours until she finally picked up and would laughingly say she`d been to town or the hairdressers, telling me I worried too much. Of course I did, I had been trained to do so all my life, constantly reminded of her fragile mental health with her hysteria, meltdowns and the odd threat of suicide, naturally when the new widow didn`t answer her phone, what was I to think ? But the life of a Widow suited her.
She had one of my Fathers pensions, a state pension and more financial support due to her health issues, her rent and council tax were paid for and that left her a good amount to cover bills and entertainment with a nice nest egg in the bank. She liked to throw her money around and boast, she had someone in to do housework and ironing twice a week, me or the home help did her shopping and she generally enjoyed a comfortable, indulged life. The old Me Me Me sparkle returned. She gushed over the Grand Children for at least a minute or so on arriving at my house and then they were studiously ignored, other than an odd beaming smile. She told me all her latest high-lights and grievances while sitting in her favorite chair being waited on hand and foot, never lifting a finger to even take a cup back in the kitchen and she usually parted company with a `You look tired Amanda` or `Don`t you ever wear make-up now?`...Still not good enough then. When she had the energy we had an odd episode of disgraceful behaviour as mentioned in the Posts : Me Me Me, Mother Calling and She always wanted what was mine. She took it as her given right she should be asked over for high days and holidays. She particularly enjoyed a Sunday lunch, I`ll admit I do a very good Roast.
On one Sunday the house was busy, Husband was in and out and a couple of friends and a neighbour dropped by, the children up and down the stairs and in the garden playing and having fun, I was cooking and trained as I was I knew only too well she was hardly the centre of attention and I could feel my anxiety building in case she took issue with that. By way of acknowledgement I said, "Sorry Mom, its a bit of a mad house here today", I realise now I was really apologising for my family carrying on with their own lives in her presence, She screwed up her face unpleasantly and said begrudgingly, "Oh well....I suppose its worth coming if only for the food". Yeah....it would never be to spend time with the children and me I thought, just for a huge roast dinner and a nap. "Will ya turn that telly down Amanda" she would bark as she got herself comfy for a snooze.
I would be busy clearing up in the kitchen and the second I sat down to put my feet up she would open her eyes and say sweetly "Any chance of a cuppa tea Mand ?" She also did her old trick of whispering little comments to my Husband when she caught him in a different room from me, she would then snigger and say "Anyway, say no more" in a conspiratorial way whilst smirking as I walked in on them, delighting in a little triangulation right under my nose. My daughter napping, I asked her to play with my Son one day, while I quickly caught up on wrapping a few Christmas presents, "Well, I`m sure I don`t know what to do with im" she grumbled putting her library book down. "I think ya better take me ome Amanda if you`re too busy" she says in her sad voice.
As the time went by and her age caught up with her, limiting her jaunts here and there. she became more sullen, grumbling a lot, wanting me more at her beck and call and dominating the house when she stayed over. Constantly passive aggressive and manipulative, full of petty jealousies and taking any opportunity to make me feel guilty at daring to have a life and a moment or two of happiness. I began to dread the phone ringing...what would it be this time...?
My Father was in the nursing home for exactly 1 year, 1 month and 1 day before he passed away. He gave up on life. I gave birth to a beautiful little girl 3 months before and took her to show him, I lay her beside him on the bed and he held her. I was glad they a least met. But after his comment `If you are not going to hold to your Mother then I won`t be able to see you and if that means I don`t see my Grand Son then that is how it will have to be` I was under no illusion that he would ever be any more devoted to his Grand Children than he had been to me, his Daughter. I`m sure he loved them in his own way but I knew without a doubt they would always be second best to her. And with just as much certainty I knew they would always be My number one priority. We spent some time with him in the hours before he passed, he was barely conscious and unable to speak. As I was breast feeding I had to go back to my daughter, leaving Mother by his side, she called from the home to say could we come back, I knew then that he had gone. I asked for a few minutes with him alone at some point. Holding his cooling hand I told him I think we would of been OK had it not been for my Mothers ways and I apologised for any heartache I had caused him.
.....looking back all these years later I recognise I was deep in the, `its always my fault, I was never good enough`, head space. I mentioned the heartache I had bought him, ignoring all the heart ache he bought me and the heartache he could so easily have saved me from. I said it may have been different if not for my Mother, ignoring it could all have been different if not for him, if he had not been such a willing Enabler, if he had not had such a nasty temper with me so often, if he had had an ounce of empathy for me. If I had to sit there again, understanding things as I do now, I would of just said God Bless, I hope you are at peace now. If either one of us needed to apologise, it was surely him to me. And I think that shows I have healed a little.
While he still lay in his death bed my Mother began dividing up his things. Wrinkling up her nose as she surveyed his TV, she told me she didn`t want it and I could have it. I told her there was time to sort those details out but it was not now. We took her home and I offered to come in with her, she was quite composed and said firmly that she wanted to be alone. I watched as she let herself in and closed the door. I really could not imagine how she would be about to grieve or even if she was about to grieve. Would she just call everyone saying she was alone and I had gone already, using it as an opportunity to slander me. Or would she weep for her Husband because she loved him...? It felt doubtful...maybe she may weep because she had lost her most loyal servant or even from a pang of guilt knowing she never really cared about him....or maybe she was just in shock. She was as much of an enigma to me as a widow as she was as a Mother. I really had no idea. Oddly enough she was not too theatrical in the role of grieving widow, she played it from a quiet, `I`m a little lost now` angle. Maybe to encourage my support of her and to secure her place in my own family dynamic. His funeral was a quiet affair, 2 weeks before Christmas. To add to it all my milk began to dry up but my baby still wanted to feed, would not take to the bottle and at 4 months was refusing even a little baby rice. Everyone came back to mine for tea and sandwiches afterwards.
My Husband was quite distant, envisaging Mother fast becoming a big part of our lives. Though polite he really could not bear her. The slow realisation dawned on me I now had to cope with a bereaved, Narcissistic Mother, an emotionally unavailable, borderline alcoholic husband, my dear little baby Daughter who was struggling to get into a feeding routine and my introverted, quiet and gentle Son. I did my very best to supply everyone with everything they needed, the love I shared with my precious children sustaining me and compensating for the lack of connection with my Mother and Husband, with whom most things were very much one way. As a well trained and life long people pleaser I readily stepped up to the plate.
So she had slowly wormed her way back in and now came to my house on occasion under the guise of seeing her Grand Son. She was full of all the things she took Father to cheer him up. She was terribly worried about him all the time. It was Dad this and Dad that, it was all false, the deep concern she constantly expressed with her sad face on was nothing like the way she was when he was at home, endlessly calling ambulances and moaning to everyone about him. For her it was so much easier to pretend to care for someone when you don`t actually have to. And then she got on to the subject of my visiting him. I must of been 7 months along by now, tired and a little anxious, trying to be the best Mom I could, look after the house, cope with her and worrying about my Father.
Full of guilt and worry about anything and everything, the last thing I needed was her trouble making. But the familiar mischievous smile flashed across her face as she side eyed me from her favorite armchair in my sitting room. "Yes...poor Dad, he gets so fed up you know, he loves to see me, he doesn`t, it bucks him up a bit, a bit of company you know....that care assistant was telling me she thinks he`s very lonely, you know the one with the bright red lipstick" I didn`t "Yes she was asking me about you....you know" I didn`t "She was quite funny actually, she said didn`t his daughter bother coming any more because its been ages since she saw you" For a moment I let my guard down and must of shown my shame in my expression, I didn`t need her to make me feel guilty, I worried about it often. And as she read my emotions her eyes flickered wider with delight for a second and she smirked right at me...it was a Jackie Baker moment all over again..."Now don`t you get worrying" she said in a false comforting yet patronising tone " I told her how you were fixed, you know" she nodded at my baby bump " I did. "I was quite sharp with her" she smiles a sickly smile, gloating at the Narcissistic supply she is milking from my reaction whilst at the same time spinning it as sticking up for me.
And then I had a moment of clarity. I had forgiven the pair of them time and time again for the most awful behaviour and cruel abuse. Why the hell should she now make me feel guilty with not a care for the upset it would cause me given my condition and my history just so she could have some fun digging at me. So without a moments thought I played her at her own game. "Oh wait...I know who you mean" I say animatedly, there`s a flash of surprise from her "Yes the one with the lipstick I remember now, oh yes she`s awful isn`t she, so sullen, you know she told me she never sees you either ! What a cheek !" As I reel it off the smirk literally slides from her face. Her eyes dart about trying to make sense of what I`ve just told her, "Did she?!" she says quietly, desperately trying to pick up the thread of her own lies as they now seem to be reality. "You know, I can`t think who you mean now?" she sounds confused, trying to remember a nonexistent care worker who said neither the things she told me or the things I told her. She was completely wrong footed and sat frowning, mulling it all over. I think she realises one of us is lying but amusingly enough she`s now not sure just who. It entertains me briefly but its not a comfortable feeling, tricking her like that. I never did it again, it wasn`t me and I did not want to become like her but on that one occasion it served its purpose. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire !
I knew nothing about my Father going into a Nursing Home until he rang and spoke to my Husband about it. He was now back in touch with them as they had locked themselves out on one occasion and I had to get him involved to save the day. It was either that or they end up at ours for the night so we considered it the worst of two evils. He was quite distressed and told the story of my Mother asking the rather loud and nosy next door neighbour round, who incidentally my Father disliked and mother alternated between not speaking to at all or telling her every family secret she could think of.
The neighbour was there to provide moral support for Mother whilst she broke the news she had made arrangements to have my Father shipped out as she just couldn`t cope with him any more. She had already viewed some places and he was to go and see the one she had earmarked. It was all done very secretively. Clearly she did not want me involved in any way. I could see that it was difficult for her, he was becoming incontinent and very unsteady on his feet, even if she had wanted to try they could not have ensured he was kept clean and safe from falling over. But it was handled so insensitively, she gave him no dignity in the decision after 50 years together. But he was of no use to her now so he was discarded, all his servile loyalty forgotten.
The irony was not lost on me that he rang me for support as she had treated him so poorly and he was to lose his home, I had been treated just the same and he had stood by and allowed it. At 73 he was a shadow of a man, hunched over, breathing difficulties and heart issues, you would of taken him for late 80`s if not 90, living under so much tension with her all these years had taken its toll. She on the other hand, the supposed invalid, was coping very well with her health issues and lived an active and full life. We were not at all close at this time after her trouble making about the hospital visits. She told me where he was going to live and I visited him there. He looked utterly broken and had nothing good to say about my Mother. He went there in November and I had them both over for Christmas lunch, he was in a wheel chair and could barely look at my Mother who steadfastly refused to be affected by his coolness and went into giddy Actress mode, chattering endlessly to fill the awkward silence. After that he lost the will to live and soon became bedridden. I was now pregnant for the 9th and last time. Well meaning people raised eyebrows after all the heartache, why couldn`t I just be grateful for the one I had and be satisfied, I was, truly I was but I really did not want my son to be an only child like me so we agreed to try for a final time. It was a difficult pregnancy for me but baby was doing fine, and baby was all that mattered ! It was a hot summer and I had morning sickness right up until I gave birth. I was tired and struggled with the heat and had my little lad to get to nursery each day and so I went a good few weeks without visiting my Father. Of late when I had gone he hardly spoke and just stared at the TV, it was sad to see him like that and I just didn`t have the heart or the energy to go often. And so she decided to have some sport with me over it.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing isn't it. In hindsight I would of gone No Contact with my parents years ago and saved myself a whole lot of heart ache and maybe have enjoyed better mental and physical health. But in a way I was as brainwashed and conditioned as my Father. He was the Enabler and took her side in everything, no exceptions. He was quite bright and no fool and yet she was such a malignant Narcissist that he was completely under her control, incapable of free thinking.
And in a way I was too, I was so conditioned to believe I was responsible for her happiness, I was never good enough and I carried such fear and such guilt because of her Narcissism and his Enabling ways that I was forever in a loop of try, try and try again. So when, two years after the death of my first Son, I delivered my second baby boy, healthy {other than a touch of jaundice from a slightly early planned C section due to my history} I was unfortunately still in that loop. I`m still in quite a few loops now actually. Still living with the effects of years of their abuse and settling for less in life as I feel it`s still more than I dare hope for and more than I deserve.
I strive to handle things better than they would have, to do the right thing, to have some integrity. My Husband, and with hindsight he was right, would have nothing to do with my parents after what had happened. I bought my baby home, full of happiness and yet full of guilt because I worried my baby in Heaven would think he was forgotten. I am an expert at guilt in all its forms. And as I looked at my new born I wondered if I had to right to keep his Grand parents out of his life, what if he was mad at me in the future if he never knew them, imagine the guilt over that. With hindsight, Yes I did have the right because I knew only too well how toxic they were and I should of known that neither were capable of the unconditional love this baby, any baby, deserved. So I did have the right and yet conditioned as I was to try and try once more and if I`m truthful, still scared of them both, I made the foolish decision to allow them back in. IDIOT !!
And so because I would just never learn when my Son was about 6 weeks I decided to call them and ask if they wanted to see him {yes, I know....} No mention was made of what had gone before. They knew I had had another baby because they had asked my Aunt on occasion what was going on and we both agreed that while she didn`t want to tell them much, if they asked her something outright it would not be fair to expect her to lie or deny any knowledge. And so they came over in a taxi one day, both dressed to the nines, she was rather grand and made sickly sweet cooing noises and wanted lots of photos taken. My Father was enchanted with his Grand Son and I foolishly hoped he may be able to have a healthy relationship with him, uninfluenced by her, as I say, hindsight is a wonderful thing.
And so they saw him every week or so.
The novelty wore off fairly quickly, after a brief fuss on arrival the conversation was diverted back to her but having a little one was a welcome distraction, I was polite but my focus was always my Son and she soon got the message, hence the last minute cancellations that began crop up if she couldn`t be bothered sharing the limelight. I even started to do their shopping, being treated to feedback soon after that the bread didn`t have much date left or the bananas were bruised, did I say do it ya bloody self then, of course not, I just tried harder. My Fathers health deteriorated and she would ring me reporting all his symptoms and be irritated I now had a more important commitment, trying to make me feel guilty she had to care for him and yet he was never so ill she couldn`t get to the hairdressers, Bingo or town. Being in touch was hard work and stressful but the sparkle in my Fathers eye when he saw his Grand Son balanced it out a little. I think it was the only happiness he had left to enjoy though once or twice when I had dropped in unexpectedly she more or less told me when to go so she could take her nap, he looked disappointed but did not challenge her. During this time I miscarried again. They were told of the pregnancy so therefore had to be told of the outcome, she play acted false concern, as if trying to rewrite the history of her past behaviour. I went to ground for a few weeks as I found it unbearable.
There were some pretty vicious phone calls in the weeks after my Son`s funeral. They were all incoming. My Son`s 21st Birthday was last month. Naturally a lot has happened in the years that have passed. Revisiting what happened all those years ago is at times distressing and emotionally exhausting but the more I write the more I feel unburdened, it is cathartic. When I started this Blog I could never have envisaged how easily the words would flow and how quickly I would work my way through the stories I need to tell. 21 years on its still beggars belief the way they behaved and the things they said after the death of their own Grand Son. Rather than grieving quietly, coming to terms with his loss, rather than feeling any empathy for us as a couple or concern for our longing for a child, the focus was all about themselves. It wasn`t until I wrote a recent post that it dawned on me that when they arrived at the funeral they were already nursing a grudge after my FIL`s comment about my need for `all their love and support`. They were not used to anyone daring to be so direct and they were affronted that someone had a clear impression of their appalling approach to parenting. With hindsight I think they went to the funeral just looking for things to fuel their anger and use as ammunition to deflect any judgement on them. Hence my Father glowering at me when I lost my composure, which he told me was all for effect. Odd that he should seek to find that in me on that day and be forever blind to my Mother doing exactly that at any opportunity. There are none so blind as those who will not see. With every vile phone call we received from them my Mother was veering from pure Narcissistic hysteria to venomous accusations and insults. At one point she screamed like a banshee at me "YOU`ve got it to come YOU AV....YOU`ve got it to COME" Given I had these two for parents, an errant, alcoholic, emotionally unavailable Husband and and my 6th pregnancy had ended with a funeral, some may have said IT, whatever IT was, was already here. Just when we thought we had heard the last of them there would be yet another call. She seemed set on making me suffer more, referring to the ulcerative colitis she had in her 20`s she told me in a low threatening voice, "I hope YOU have bowel problem like me Amanda, THEN you`ll know what pain is". So she thought I did not know what pain was, after so many miscarriages, my baby boy dying and still she thought I did not know what pain was. And so she wanted to be sure I knew what pain was, she wanted me to be ill, to suffer more pain. {In later years when I had a cancer diagnosis I thought how delighted she would of been} Quite breathtaking isn`t it, the amount of vengeance she felt for me. My Father stepped up his enabling game and did her proud in his complete abandonment of me, aiding and abetting her in her pursuit of inflicting even more suffering on me with her constant attacks.
Eventually I no longer answered the phone to them though my Husband, fuelled by the support of his family, took a few calls and refused to take anything they threw at him seriously and replied back and forth with meaningless comments and questions, my Father at some point saying with exasperation to my Mother.....I can`t get any sense out of im Ivy. And so eventually their calls stopped and we broke off contact which gave us the peace we needed to allow the days to pass and realise that somehow, unbelievably, life was still going on. The Headstone was put on and I visited the grave regularly, he lay in the babies garden of rest. I was saddened to see how frequently there was a fresh grave covered in funeral flowers. I had no idea up until then that this sorrow was not an unusual event. We heard from my Aunt, Fathers sister, that my Mother spent some time in psychiatric care in the months after. It was my Aunts opinion this was due to her own attention seeking hysteria and she had little sympathy for her. I wondered if it was the final trump card she played to hoover us back into contact and feed her need for an audience. She would then at last be the star of the final scene in this episode. I imagine this charade was sold to all who would listen as The depth of Ivy`s grief after all they could hardly say it was a temper tantrum because I received a lot of love, support and attention when my baby died and she was jealous. God only knows the lies they told and the slander they spread about me to the few remaining, distant family members. I dread to think. I can only hope they knew her well enough to doubt it was all true. I would dread the phone ringing during this time. I have a heightened startle response as do many Adult Children Of Narcissists, and I would jump out of my skin in case it was them again.
In amongst all the pain and grief that I felt was also shame and guilt that I had been such a poor Mom that my body had effectively allowed my baby to die. I felt useless, worthless and not good enough, I had failed at something else. I also yet again felt unloved by my Parents. And the unbearable longing for my little boy.....I simply cannot put into words.
