Aunt Iris

I wrote extensively about my Aunt Iris in the post The Nanny. I covered how she was part of my early life and how I put her up on a pedestal, she had so many qualities I admired and was so many things I hoped to be. And yet because of her lecherous husband, nothing less than a dirty old man with an eye for underage girls, I was unable to stay in close contact with her and so lost someone who was so valued by me, I recognised this at the time in my very early teens and through the following years. The incident of abuse was the catalyst that drove us apart and then my being forced from my home at the tender age of just 18, when all of my focus was on simply getting by, alone and of course I am certain my Mother had a hand in keeping the estrangement going in later years. She was always quite jealous of the bond between my Aunt and myself.

She would of spun a tale or two and would not want my Aunt and I to compare notes and find her version and reality to be greatly different. But just like Uncle Jack I mourned her absence from my life. It was never at the forefront of my mind until I had my own family. My Husband came from a large family, not emotionally close or supportive, other than his Parents, but in contact at least, whereas I just had my two toxic Parents. I was so thrilled to be a Mom and so longed to share my children with some part of my own family. After that day when I called my Father, begging to be picked up to go home, I did not see my Aunt for about 4 years, until I was 16. Even the fact I told my Mother about what happened is not prevalent in my memory of those years. It was swept under the carpet and never mentioned. I can remember being very nervous about visiting again and yet longing to see my Aunt. Thankfully he, Uncle X, had made himself scarce. I had grown and changed a lot since my Aunt had seen me last, I had started work and looked far more grown up. She was never affectionate in a hugs and kisses way but I clearly remember her suddenly reaching out and touching my face, exclaiming how different I looked and her expression was full of affection for me, I could tell she had missed me though she did not say the words. And that was the last time I saw her I`m pretty sure.

I cannot remember a time after that. I do remember me being reluctant to get my hair styled when I was about 15, Mother ridiculed the way it looked and hung over my face and spitefully told me that on discussing it, Aunt Iris had told her that I liked to hide behind it. She informed me of that with pure delight and savoured my obvious embarrassment and hurt over her choice of words. As an adult I would ask them both who they imagined I was hiding from....wouldn`t that of been interesting to hear their replies ! Then came the years where I grew and carved a life for myself, my Fathers health and employment capabilities both declined and my Mother grew to a new level of evil in her resentment of me as she absorbed that her high life days were behind her now and mine were just beginning. She slyly demanded I leave my home as I made the house unhappy and when that demand was secretly enforced and I had no choice but to do just that, she then orchestrated a false united front with my Enabling spineless Father that they were shocked to the core and distraught about my departure. What lies she spun Aunt Iris about all this I dread to imagine.

In a feeble attempt to connect with her I sent an odd Christmas card though never received one back, unless they went to my Parents house in which case its entirely probable that my toxic Mother threw them away rather than pass them to me. And as I write it also occurs to me she may well have told my Aunt she had given them to me, in fact who knows if my Aunt had written a line or two for me in them. She must of slandered me to my Aunt though because I remember one time in my 20`s I called in and she was buzzing with manic energy and all smiles as she rode a high.The phone rang and it was my Aunt Iris. Mother giddily announced that I was there and did she want to say Hello to me ? As I was standing nearby I clearly over heard my Aunt snap loudly "NO, I do NOT!", Mother, in the voice of a scolded, sulky child replied "Ohhh...well alright then". The call then came abruptly to an end with Mother struggling to make eye contact with me and her mood nose diving fast. She often forgot the nasty things she said of people when she was later in a more upbeat mood and was then taken aback when she found someone still with the mindset she had previously manipulated them into. In my 30`s when I had my 5th miscarriage I remember my Mother giving me a card from Aunt Iris. Why it had to reach me through her rather than Mother just giving her my address I could say I don`t know but naturally I do, it would be a sly way of triangulating and controlling our interaction.The card simply said `Thinking Of You` and was signed Aunt iris X. And it meant a lot to me, though it was a little tainted when I proudly showed my sister-in-law to which she replied sneeringly "Er`s put a lot in it ain`t er?!" I still told Mother to thank her very much for it. I later asked if she had passed on my thanks and she gave the familiar fast nod of the head with a very quiet Yes. Just as she did when I asked about giving the photo to Uncle Jack and if she`d told my Father of the abuse. Oh how I wish I had taken matters into my own hands and responded directly to my Aunt.

But I was grieving, striving to carry a child, hold on to my errant, alcoholic, emotionally unavailable Husband, hold down a demanding job despite losing time after each miscarriage, helping to pay a mortgage and still continue to deal with my Narcissistic Mother and Enabling treacherous Father all whilst being oblivious to and uneducated in the ways of the utterly toxic people closest to me and still striving to meet their expectations of me, as a Daughter, Wife and a `unable to carry` Mom.... It`s so very easy to see what we should of done with hindsight isn`t it ?
And so the chance to reconnect with my Aunt slipped away from me, as did my pregnancies, happiness and any self respect I had. And next I had my baby boy who died, nothing from my Aunt reached me during that time, who knows if something was intercepted by my Mother, given her rage at his funeral.....
My Mother was born in 1927 and so would be 93 and Aunt Iris was at least 5 or so years older so I imagine that she too is passed. I wonder if we could of navigated contact without ever broaching the subject of what her Husband did and if we might have been able to rekindle the closeness of the early years. She never had children of her own. In fact I had even wondered if she was my Mother given the inconsistencies and uncertainties regarding my birth. Though deep down I don`t think so. For a long time I thought I lost her because of her Husband and because of my Mother, both are true. Yet I suppose I also lost her because she could not face that she married a man who could do that. I had wondered if she believed me but she had witnessed him telling me I had come to bed eyes when I was only 12. It was never discussed that she had even been told of what happened but I`m certain she would of been, if only as a tool by Mother to get the upper hand in some disagreement. Perhaps she feared her standing in the community would be tarnished, she was well known and respected in the village where she lived. Perhaps my Mother would of falsely had her believe, that she thought I was out to rack it all up again when I got upset about her trying to elicit sympathy from me for Uncle X`s poor health, and so maybe she felt I was best kept at arms length. I imagine she would of been quite wealthy when she passed away. So lets be crass for a moment and ponder money. I, unlike my Mother did, do not have a longing for money, I simply am glad for well stocked cupboards and my bills being paid. But it has crossed my mind that my children may have also suffered from my Mothers meddling ways.

My Aunt was the main beneficiary when her two bachelor brothers passed and so would, I think, have left a healthy estate. I suppose it went to my cousins in Australia and to the woman she was Nanny to as a child, I heard they maintained a close bond over the years, and she was naturally from a monied family herself. So had she seen fit to bequeath me a little something it in turn would of been passed onto my children, for I would have had no wish to squander it as my Mother would have. But thanks to my Mother and a series of unfortunate events it seems I was not considered. It does not bother me in the least, my only regret is I lost my Aunt, because of wickedness and family secrets. I have to smile and shake my head when I remember how my Mother forever had her hand out for a handout even when it was not even needed and yet she managed to rob me and my children of so very much more than money in so many ways. As the saying goes, having a Narcissistic Mother is the gift that keeps on giving ! 
 I will be forever fond of my Aunt, remembering her thick dark hair, deep red lipstick, perfect diction and her easy air of confidence and kindness. I think we were both alike in settling for less in a Husband than we deserved, perhaps both tainted by our childhoods and never seeing our true self worth. One day when we meet again in a better place I would like to sit beside the river on a Summers day once again and eat ice cream and chatter about anything and everything..... just like we used to do.

With my Love X