Reflecting all things mum as we approach another Christmas without her. We can largely thank my mum for the fact that we are doing this, and doing it now, while we are young enough and fit enough to enjoy it.
So, I am, self-indulgently, seeking space in the in-laws dining room, and putting my thoughts down on paper. It’s hard to find time to be on my own now we live in a van. I love Neil, and this adventure we are on, but when you live in a very small space, it’s not easy to be alone, with my thoughts and, in the case of missing my mum, with my memories. My mum was a force of nature. She loved her horses, her husband, her dogs and her children and, very probably, in that order. She wanted a pony – which led to me getting my first pony for Christmas, when I was ten years old. We were not rich, far from it. Mum and dad both worked really hard, sometimes doing really shit jobs, to feed us and all the pets. We grew up with dogs, cats, guinea pigs and hamsters, which was all pretty normal. We also grew up with piglets, lambs and a calf – and they all lived in the house at some point.
It started with the lambs. Mum and dad had a small holding, and took orphaned lambs from a friend, to bottle rear them. They needed feeding too often to be left at the “farm” as we grandly called the 3 acres and a barn in a village 4 miles away. So they lived in the house. Having quickly discovered it was impossible to pen them in, mum put disposable nappies on them, with a hole cut for their tails, and they had the run of downstairs, bouncing around the living room and kitchen and on and off furniture.
The piglets lived in the garage, until they were old enough to go to the farm. There were 3, of different ages (so they were ready for the table at different times). George, the eldest, sat on Ben, the youngest and killed him. The middle one was mine and I named her Trifle – don’t judge me – I was about 10 at the time.
Then there was the calf. She was beautiful. Chestnut coloured and so sweet. I don’t remember why she wasn’t with her mum, but her chances were never good and, sadly, she died. My favourite memory is being left to look after my little sister and her friend. When the friend’s dad came to collect her, she said, “Daddy, come and look at the cow.”. His face was a picture – he definitely did not expect a real cow, under the stairs, in our semi-detached house on a housing estate.
So my life was never conventional. We didn’t have money for new clothes and piles of presents under the christmas tree, but we had happy, well kept animals, and mum and dad went out of their way to make sure we had anything we really wanted. We were raised to realise not everyone can have what they want, all the time. One year I got a pony for Christmas. The next year I got a pair of pyjamas, and my brother got a bass guitar and amplifier. We realised that if the available money was split 3 ways, none of us would ever get what we really wanted.
When I had my son, my parents were amazing. I went back to work when he was 12 weeks old, and my boss was horrible. It was not acceptable to have time off when my son was ill. I am so glad parents today have more rights than we had in the 80’s. (They don’t have great music though 🙂) My dad and my mum frequently collected Aiden from his childminder, took time off themselves and helped cover school holidays. They also babysat a lot, even when we moved from Suffolk, where they lived, to Birmingham. It was a shock when they moved to Ireland, along with my sister and her family.
They loved Ireland and mum took her horses with her and created a whole new social circle.
Mum loved Christmas. We may not have had champagne to toast with, or massive piles of gifts, but she decorated the biggest tree she could find, always a real one and the house was decorated throughout. She shopped for all the food and dad cooked an amazing dinner. My gran always came to ours, and the house was full. One of the things I loved about my mum was that Christmas was so relaxed. (It has to be when you still have animals to look after.) As we got older, if we made other plans, we were never made to feel guilty for not being at home. If we invited friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, mum and dad just took it in their stride. We usually had at least one person with nowhere else to go. One year I even invited my in-laws to be. My sister and her husband were there, with their 3 children, and the neighbours came round. Mum and dad just welcomed everyone.
It all changed in 2019. Mum turned 71 on 24th December. In the week before she organised the carol concert at her local church. On the 23rd she put up the tree, and went Christmas shopping with dad, as well as looking after the ponies. (By this point she had 3 tiny ponies and didn’t ride anymore). I rang to wish her a happy birthday, and my dad said she might not know who I was, but offered to wake her. I said to leave her to sleep. Later that evening she was admitted to hospital. Christmas Day she could recall my dads and my sisters names, but not their relationship to her. By the time me and my brother were able to fly out on Boxing she was unconscious. We never got to have a conversation with her again. Sadly, we lost her on New Year’s eve.
As anyone who has lost someone too soon knows, we felt cheated. She was only 71. She had so much life in her and so many plans. She was 10 years younger than my dad and he was not supposed to be left on his own.
Then Covid hit, and we couldn’t even go to visit my dad to check he was OK. My sister has children with complex needs, and so she could only speak to him from the driveway of his house.
The firsts have been hard – my son has a daughter. Mum and dads’ first great grandchild. My mum never met her.
My niece has got married. It was one of the most beautiful weddings I have been to, but mums’ absence was huge for us all.
Christmas in Ireland is easier. My dad no longer has any decorations, but my sister more than makes up for it, with a tree in every room in the house. We also have the blessing of my youngest niece, who has Down Syndrome. She never grows up. Our very own, beautiful Peter Pan.
Christmas away from Ireland, like this year, is always so hard. We have mum’s birthday, Christmas Day and New Year, all reminding us of our loss.
Losing mum did, however, focus our minds on what is important. We had been planning van life for about 10 years when she died. There was always a reason to postpone it. Largely the fact that I was only in my fifties and was concerned about my pension. However, with Neil being 7 years older than me, we decided that life was too short to keep waiting. If we did, would we both be fit enough to enjoy it? So, with the children all grown up and having children of their own, we decided to become the children and take a very extended gap year. Money is tight, but I learnt from my parents that money does not buy a Happy Christmas, people do. Will we be skint once we retire? Yes, but we’ll have great memories and if one of us is left alone sooner than expected, we will have lived the life we planned to live.
So I am sitting here on my mum’s birthday, thinking of my granddaughter meeting mum’s last pony this summer, and how much my mum would have loved to see them together. The pony died shortly afterwards, in her early 40’s – the first time in 46 years we have not had a horse in the family. I wish I was in Ireland with my family, even with the empty paddock, but I will raise a glass to my mum today, tomorrow and on New Years Eve. She certainly made sure we would remember her at this time of year.
Happy Birthday Mum
Happy Christmas Mum