On Tuesday 19th July, my Aunty Mary rang me in the evening. I can’t remember what the original reason was but we ended up having a deep conversation about our familial genetic predisposition to addition. It was one of those cathartic conversations that made me feel more connected to her and we had both come to the same conclusion independently that an addictive gene did exist and was highly prevalent in our family.
Little did I know at that stage that just over a month later I would be saying goodbye to my Aunty for the last time.
My mum was one of nine children, 6 girls and 3 boys. My grandparents were quite stern and very religious. At one point my granddad was also their headmaster and later became a Catholic priest. Life was hard back then, they didn’t have a lot, a satsuma and a new pair of socks for school were considered a Christmas treat. My mum spent her teenage years working in a soap factory and my grandparents would be waiting at the door for her wage packet when she got home on payday. She would sometimes spend the money on her way home so that she at least got to see some of it.
By contrast my own childhood was much more relaxed. We were not well off by any means but mum made sure we had big piles of presents at Christmas, working extra shifts at a care home on top of her nursing work as a paediatric nursing sister specialising in infectious diseases.
There was a strong propensity towards Education and Healthcare in mum’s family. She was a nurse, my Aunty Gel was a dentist, Aunty Mary was an audiologist, my Aunties Beth and Cathy were teachers, as was my uncle Eddie. Even my uncle Leo was a driving instructor.
Aunty Mary suffered a lot of tragedy in her life. She was incredibly paternal and wanted a big family, she lost two babies to cot death, Mark and Bernadette and had a number of miscarriages but she was also blessed with 6 beautiful children that she doted on. My older cousin Bobby, Dominic, Eddie, Katie, Vikki and Lil.
Mary never gave up, she never felt sorry for herself through all the things that went wrong in her life, she was an incredibly strong woman. She was always there to comfort people going through a hard time, she was very good at dealing with a crisis.
When my mum went through some really bad years, Mary was there for her. My Uncle Leo passed away through suicide, my parents separated, my mum’s best friend died suddenly from a heart attack and both her parents died all in a relatively short time period. I was also having my own mental health issues that did not help either.
Mum ended up in hospital, my father divorced her whilst she couldn’t even represent herself and my Aunty stepped in, shopping for my brother and sister whom were just teenagers living on their own, I had already moved out by this stage.
At one point my mum was living on my Auntie’s sofa, having lost her house whilst in hospital. She was in a terrible state after being tortured by psychiatrists who fried her brain with ECT (electric shock treatment) that has permanently damaged her memory. They also poisoned her with lithium, leaving her shaking so badly she couldn’t hold a cup of tea and she would burn herself by falling asleep with lit cigarettes in her mouth, it was an awful time for all of us but Mary was always there, fighting my mum’s corner, dealing with the doctors, attending appointments, never giving up.
She helped find my mum a council house and helped her moving in. They did all the packing and moving, making sure she had furniture and carpets and anything else she needed. It took a very long time but mum’s mental health improved, even whilst her physical health deteriorated.
Mum had a myriad of health problems, painful arthritis, she was only short to begin with, less than 5ft in height. Her mobility wasn’t great. She also had heart problems, chest problems and Addison’s disease. I can’t tell you how many different hospital wards I’ve visited over the years when she’s been in and out of hospital with chest infections. Nurses make the worst patients, especially one like my mum that’s allergic to latex. That’s like a gardener that’s allergic to grass. No matter what, Mary was always there for my mum and I think I’ve taken that for granted a little bit and I shouldn’t have.
The last few years had been a real turning point. The government bought in bedroom tax, mum was in a three bed property that was originally for mum and us kids to live in. My sister moved to America, my brother was settled with his partner and after living with mum for roughly 4 years, I moved out to buy a home with my fiancée.
The house wasn’t ideal for her anyway, it had a steep staircase and it although it had been adapted for her with a stairlift, extra rails and a walk in shower, it was a bit big for her needs but it was also her home. Mary helped find her a new home. Even with the extra tax that mum couldn’t afford and her complex needs, it was not easy to find her somewhere suitable.
When I first moved out of our family home growing up, I went to the social housing office in my area and within a couple of weeks was offered two separate flats but these days there is so little social housing available and so much need for it that even if you are actually homeless you can spend years waiting for accommodation. Instead of the housing office giving you a choice of three properties to pick from, today you have to “bid” for properties and hope that you have the highest score of everyone else looking for properties. It’s a very time consuming process and you need to be constantly bidding on properties to show that you are interested, then there are the inevitable disappointments along the way as you find somewhere perfect only for it to be taken by someone else.
Mary handled this whole process and it let to a perfect disabled friendly, two bedroom bungalow for mum that was only a 5 minute drive round the corner from me, which made it so much easier for me to visit her.
Mum isn’t great with technology, she takes a long time to work how to answer her phone. There have been times where she hasn’t answered so I’ve had to drive to her house to check she’s ok and hasn’t had a fall or anything like that. Most of the time it’s because she had gone away to her sister Gel’s and forgot to tell me but now at least it’s a short drive away.
When mum got the bungalow, Mary moved in. She cooked for her, and the neighbours. She helped her order new furniture, decorate, get a new dog, nursed her through bariatric surgery, took her to countless appointments and to church. Mum’s health and her life were getting much better and she played a big role in that. She was always there.
I wish I spent more time with Mary now. Whenever I came to visit mum, she’d give us space to chat on our own. I wish I’d took Mary with us sometimes when we had gone out for birthday meals or things like that.
The only good thing about Mary’s passing was that I did get the chance to tell her how much I appreciated everything she had done before she passed. That was important to me.
There were lots of good times too. I was actually a very shy kid, even more shy around family than anything else. Aunty Mary put on the most amazing New Years Eve parties. There were disco lights and smoke machines, plenty of alcohol and buffets. So many people, distant family members I didn’t know very well and she they brought us all together.
I wish I had a time machine and could go back to those childhood memories and make myself a little less shy and timid and relax a bit more. I did when I got older. Taking my girlfriend to one of my Auntie’s infamous New Year’s Eve parties in 2002 will always stick in my mind. I drank so many cheap alcopops that night that my head was spinning, I also met my brothers partner for the first time that night too. Those were happy memories.
It’s so easy to take things, particularly people, for granted. We don’t like to think of our own mortality and it’s even more painful to think of losing the people we care about, the people that have always been there and we feel like will always be there for us. It can happen at anytime.
It was only the beginning of August when my Aunty Mary was excited about going with mum to see an ABBA concert but she never got to see that concert and that makes me feel very sad. Things were just starting to go well. She helped turn mum’s bungalow into a beautiful home, complete with Gazebo and furniture out in the back garden. She had recently moved out into her own forever home in Chorlton, a short walk away from her daughters Katie and Lil’s flat. There should have been more parties, more family gatherings, maybe even a few holidays and that’s all been taken from us.
Out of the six sisters, only two are left, all passing at relatively young ages. It just doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t seem fair but then life has never been fair for my aunty or for my mum. I doubt it’s ever fair for anyone. The time she had, she made the most of. I’m glad for the person she was, for the memories she gave so many people, for the love and for the laughter. I’m glad for how generous she was with her time and I’m glad that she passed surrounded by her family, her loving husband whom has been a rock for her through it all.
It also feels like there is a huge vacuum left behind. Every time I walk into mum’s bungalow and there’s not a kitchen full of waifs and strays being fed and Mary asking me if I wanted a drink or something to eat despite having her arm in a cast. I can still hear her voice in my head, I just wish I could see her again, happy, laughing and full of life, just how I remember her.
Rant Over 