Over the weekend I quietly marked an anniversary in my life … it’s now been two years since I found out that my Mother died.
We (my siblings and I) had been estranged from Mum for a number of years; she had severe mental health issues and sadly none of us was able to maintain a relationship with her. Mum refused to come to my wedding; the last time we spoke, I was 6 months’ pregnant with Mr 19. She never met my children – her grandchildren!
Why I Didn’t Talk to My Mum for over 10 years
Although it hurt not to have her in my life, I had much to be thankful for. I had (have!) a wonderful husband and two kids; although I struggled with depression at times (which I think is a consequence of childhood abuse), life was pretty good. Just to have a happy family was like heaven on earth after my own wretched childhood!
Over the years, I had come to a place of forgiveness and although Mum and I no longer had contact, I sincerely wished only the best for her. And I hoped, that somehow, she would have felt the same for me …
Until afternoon tea time on Wednesday, 24 August, 2011.
I was bored at work so googled my grandmother‘s name to see if she had passed away yet (That sounds really terrible! But she chose Mum’s side when family relationships broke down). I calculated she would have been 96 if she was still alive …
Sure enough, up popped a funeral notice. But imagine my shock when I read the following words:
MY MOTHER’S NAME, aged 62 years, of —. Passed away peacefully (date) 2007 at — Hospital. Dearly loved wife of A, beloved daughter of B and loved sister of C. Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend a Service of Thanksgiving for MY MOTHER’s Life to be held at 2 p.m. on — , 2007 in the — Church, — Street, —. Private Cremation. Special thanks to the staff at — Hospital and — Nursing Centre …
I sat staring at the screen, my brain scrambling to comprehend what I had just read.
Then the dates hit me. So long ago!
Stunned, I turned around in my chair to face the rest of my section; unable to speak. They must have seen something in my face because straight away one of my colleagues asked if I was all right.
Gasping for air, I finally choked out the words: “My Mum …. Died ……” and the floodgates opened. Despite our estrangement, despite the pain, despite everything, I was devastated. Why? Because at the end of the day, she was still my Mum.
Kindly they ushered me into an unused office and rang the hubster for me, then left me in peace to break the news to him.
Needless to say, I was in shock. We then had the terrible task of telling my siblings etc.
We did some investigating only to learn that it was my mother’s wishes that we, her own children, not be advised of her passing. There is no way to express the depth of our pain; it was three weeks before I felt calm enough to return to work.
During that time, my siblings and I held our own private memorial service, where we shared memories, tears, photos and a glass or two of wine. One sister played the song that has always reminded her of our Mum: “Because of You” by Kelly Clarkson.
I bought some scrapbooking supplies and made a memorial album with the handful of photos that I had of my Mum.
I was blindsided by grief. I thought I’d mourned the loss of my mother many years ago, when we were first estranged. But it seemed there was no end to my tears! Just the little things – seeing a woman in the street who looked like my mother … but of course it wasn’t. Driving behind a hearse, and thinking that my mother had made that final journey … and I hadn’t been there.
I Must Confess … in some ways it’s easier now. When people ask about my Mum, I can blandly reply, “She passed away”.
No longer do I have to mention that we didn’t speak for years; no longer do I have to watch the judgement and condemnation fill their faces. I guess I can understand their reactions: what sort of monster has nothing to do with their own Mother?!
Two years later, I still haven’t been to see her niche. I want to, but I guess I’m still not quite ready.
The sadness I feel as I remember this “anniversary”, is mostly for my Mum, and all that she missed out on.
Rest in Peace, Mum.
A-M says
Oh Janet, just heartbreaking. I so empathise with the wretched childhood thing too. I am estranged from my biological alcoholic father. He is still alive but it is all too painful and to destructive to have any sort of contact with him as he is so long gone. I know I will grieve for what could have been when he is gone. But I have to postpone my grief until then as he cannot be a destructive part of my precious family’s life. You are not alone sweet girl. You travel the best path you can with what you have been given. Your gratitude for your blessings shines through your words and that’s what makes you so special. A-M xx
Janet says
Hi Anne-Maree, so sorry to hear you also know the pain of being estranged from a parent, but like you say, sometimes it’s for the best and you just have to limit the amount of damage they can do to you and your own family once you have one.
Tegan says
How heartbreaking for you. I can’t even begin to imagine the heartache you must have felt at finding out about her passing, and knowing that no one told you.
Janet says
Yeah still have some bitterness against a couple of rellies that COULD have passed on the news, and didn’t … I will never understand why they didn’t ….
Min says
Oh Janet … this made me cry 🙁 What an awful way to find out that your mother had passed away … and how heartbreaking to know that she didn’t want you to know and that no-one had told you. Even though you were estranged … she was still your mother and the grief just as strong if not stronger. That is such a beautiful family photograph. To look at it, you would never guess what the future was to hold. You look so much like your dad I think. I think you and your siblings are amazing for putting the past behind you and having your own memorial service for your mother. You’re one strong chickky Janet. Big hugs…Min xo
Janet says
Yes, Mum often told me I looked like my Dad (and that she hated that about me – after they divorced!). Yes, I feel the same, such a happy family photo, where did it all go wrong? I guess that is a secret Mum has taken to her grave with her.
Ness says
Oh Janet, you moved me to tears as well. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, I’m so close to my Mum and a Mummy’s girl at 42. It’s such a credit to you that you’ve made this life for yourself with a beautiful family and your writing career with such a positive attitude. Big hugs. xoxo
Janet says
Oh now I’m feeling bad for making people cry LOL! Sadly, I think there are a lot of people like me with so much pain in their past. I’ve always been jealous of women who are close to their Mums. Ah well. I’m just glad for what I have now 🙂
Shari says
Oh Janet, I’m so sorry, on all levels, for the grief you’ve carried. Sending big cyber hugs xxx
Rhianna says
Oh Janet xxx Sending many fairy wishes and butterfly kisses to you lovely
Janet says
Thanks Rhi, but honestly, I am all good now!
Kirsty @ My Home Truths says
Grief can hit you surprisingly hard, can’t it? I’m sorry you never got to spend a lot of time with your mum and that she asked that you not be told of her passing. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been to accept. You are one strong woman Janet. Thanks for sharing a little more of yourself today xx
Rita says
This is so sad Janet… It most be terrible to learn the death of a parent this way… This is a very personal post and thanks for sharing it with us.
Janet says
Hi Rita, yes I did think twice about sharing it, but if it helps just one person, it’s worth it. And I got a lovely email today from somebody saying it did exactly that, so I’m really glad I hit the “publish” button!
Lisa Wood says
Janet, I so feel your pain and your sadness and yet also your strength along with understanding. My Mum and I have only connected in the last few months after not having contact for many years….sometimes its easy to go and meet up with my side of the family – sometimes it takes a LOT out of me and I am a mess for days after wards.
I made the decision to re-connect with my Mum this year after not having contact for about 15 years – it was time to let it all go and I also never wanted to feel like I had cheated my family out of meeting their Grandma and Uncles. Some days I am at ease with the re-connection. Other times I have to take deep breaths and remind myself that I will be OK.
And like your Mum, its the very same with my Mum – couldn’t keep in contact because of safety issues all round.
I think your Mum will be smiling down, and she will be Proud of you. Because no matter what happens within any family relationships at the end of the Day Mums are Proud even if they can’t show it. My thoughts are sent to you xxx
Janet says
Thank you so much Lisa, I’ve got tears in my eyes xxx
Lorelei Barkley says
hugs. xoxo
EssentiallyJess says
Wow that must have been hard. I can’t even think of what to say right now Janet.
I should treasure my relationship with my own mother more deeply.
Janet says
I treasure my relationship with Miss Almost 17, as it’s the only real mother-daughter relationship I’ve ever had.
Jo from Blondie By the Sea says
Oh Janet what a way to find out your mother had passed, and so many years before you found out.
I read that you have a great relationship with your daughter. That’s what I hope for too. Knowing that you are able to be a great mum even when you didn’t have a great role model is so encouraging.
Thanks for sharing your story.
Jo xx
Leanne | crestingthehill says
Janet I just read this after your FB link today – so sad and poignant. How can our parents have been okay with losing contact with their children? It’s interesting that you still felt strongly enough and had love enough to deeply mourn her passing. When my dad died last year I felt nothing and still haven’t shed a tear. It’s interesting how we are affected by our family relationships – but the biggest take home lesson I’ve had is to NOT repeat the mistakes of our parents – and you are the perfect example of that (and hopefully I am too) x
Janet Camilleri says
I know, it defies belief doesn’t it Leanne! But like you said, I learned how NOT to parent x