It was Tuesday evening and I hadn’t heard from mum all day.
She wasn’t answering calls or emails. I asked Kerrie to check on her. 10 minutes later Kerrie replied Can you call me
urgently. The bottom fell out of my stomach and I already knew.
Kerrie went in and facilitated the ambulance and police. Please listen to me when I say this Caitlin,
she looked so peaceful, lying in bed.
We had been there all month. As I flew out on Sunday I sent
an email saying I love you!
She responded: I love
you too. Its been a happy month. Now time to wash my hair. I called from
the airport and Lujia and Thoran had dropped by with their babies. Later that
night she said the house was so quiet. I
sent some of the photos of our month.
We arrived on a Saturday. Our first Sunday we went to a kid’s
party at the bowling club, with jumping castles and a kids disco. This is so much fun! she said as we
watched the kids disco and tried to coax Matilda into playing musical chairs.
She told the DJ how impressed she was, as a teacher, at how he connected with
kids.
I don’t know what we did all month. Normal stuff. I went to
work. Yum yum took Matilda and Parker to the play center. In the mornings the babies would make a lot of
noise, but mum would sleep through it, wake up about 10, have some coffee. She
would be around during the day, attend to her mum-stuff and outings, I would be
in and out. We would have dinner, she might read Matilda a story, blow her a
kiss goodnight. She was so kind to Matilda and Parker. And me.
We would go to the bowling club for dinner, mum and I would
park ourselves by the window to watch Matilda play. For her birthday we had a
dinner at home with a birthday cake. She blew out the candles. We have her
three bags of books form Brays, carefully selected by Tim. Matilda wanted to
give her chocolate milk as a present. We went to the bowling club the following
night to celebrate again and she had the Aperol Spritz that she wanted, having
read about them in some novel set in Tel Aviv. This isn’t at all what I expected. Maybe its an acquired taste. We went up to the french café on the corner and drank coffee and smoothies in the sun. Mum seemed happy.
At one point I found her writing a very long letter to Tim
critiquing his book. 8 or 9 points he should fix. I convinced her to rip it up
and write a nice letter encouraging him to write more. We went to the
hairdressers to get her hair fixed. We had another ACAT assessment and she was
approved for level 3.
She did some word formation with Matilda. She read the
babies stories. She did fun things and bought fun and interesting books for
Matilda on her Monday and Wednesday adventures in Balmain. The Nutcracker.
Allegro. We both drank a lot of coffee. As promised, she didn’t start drinking
wine until the babies were asleep.
I didn’t sit outside in the wee hours as I usually would. I
found it difficult to have the drunken conversations as of late. But we would
talk in the morning, or I would be sitting by her chair with the kids playing
or we would talk when we were out. But not enough. So I have regrets about
that. We talked about the future though. I told her we would be moving back and
moving in with her in April. She was happy about that. We were coordinating to
have her house painted. I know she was proud of me and happy that I had gotten
my life together. She complained about having too many appointments. I told her
she had heaps of time. She loved going
up to Balmain on Mondays and Wednesdays and running into everyone, socializing.
In the last few days she was sick. On the Sunday she asked
me to get her some antibiotics from the chemist and I did. We came home from
church and got things organized to go to the airport. We chatted a bit. I said
we were sad to go and we’d had a wonderful time. She said the same and she
would miss the babies. I showed her the way I had organized her fridge and her
meals for the next week. There are
conversations I wish we had instead.
The Melbourne folk
will be here in a week. Will you be ok till then?
Yes.
And we’ll be back in
March.
All the conversations now seem very practical and
logistical. I wish they had been more spiritual and softer. I feel really sad about that. But I guess we
had our share of spiritual and deep and meaningful conversations.
I wish I had known It was the end. I wish I had known it was
the last visit. I wish I had known it was the last conversation, the last
goodbye. We left the house and I gave her a kiss and a hug, said I love you, thanks for having us mum and
got into the taxi. She stood at the gate waving, as the car turned around down
jubilee place and then headed up darling street. She waved until we were out of
sight.
It still just feels very surreal. I am not ready to process
all the memories, my lifetime of memories, all of then to do with love,
selflessness, challenges, strength, humor, kindness, courage, above and beyond,
the unconditional love.
From being a little family in Paul street, to Edward Street
to Darling Street. Christmases made special by her love, energy, creativity and
selflessness. Weekends with grandma and
papa or going on field trips, designing our garden together. A mother who did
her best to instill education and a love of learning and integrity, compassion
and kindness. A selfless mother who would do anything for her children, make extraordinary
sacrifices every step of the way. Difficult teenage years and her strength and
courage through it all. Reconnecting as a young adult and being so close.
Moving out of home and mum saying it
feels like Ive lost a limb. Standing on the balcony together one afternoon just before I was due to fly to Bangladesh and the song Leaving on a Jet Plane started playing from the neighbors house, our arms around each other in the moment, her reminiscing about when the song came on in the airport before she took off for KL in the 70s.
Her buying me business shirts at Zambellis all the time and wanting me to dress
well and look good. Going to grandmas funeral, and then Barbara’s funeral and her
sadness. Her being there during the hospital admissions, making the journey to
Curl Curl and St Leonards to see me in rehabs, even to Perth. Watching me crash
and burn through life and always being there to help me pick up the pieces. Her
happiness at the arrival of grandchildren all over the place, taking in Ludjia
as a surrogate daughter, Gabby turning her garden into something magical. When
she started to decline and I could be there for her. The hospitals, trips to
RPA. Sorting out the helpers, the admin, the appointments…
Always coming home,
always to open arms and a warm welcome for me and my growing family, always my
mum, a constant amid the changing world. I would get frustrated, with the drinking and
the refusing to take care of herself, the suspicion about doctors, the long
winded explanations in the emergency rooms. Telling her about Parker, visiting Ashfield
hospital quite pregnant with Parker, coming home to have Parker. I arrived in
the November and we had a few weeks together before the family arrived… they
were wonderful. We stayed for months with the new addition, Jason and yum yum
having gone home. They were happy months. Getting into our groove, we would
rise early and head out, when we got home mum would read to Matilda and hold
Parker while I prepared dinner, more stories afterwards, we would chat a bit
when the babies were in bed… It all
seems so simple and peaceful now.
Over the last month I was worried about mum of course. She
was still drinking at night, after the babies went to sleep, and unsteady on
her feet. I would get up and come downstairs about 10, ask her when she was
going to bed. Sometimes I would be doing work watching tv together and at 10
start to encourage bed time. She would usually go about 11, 12, maybe 1 and Id
turn down the bed for her, help her take her shoes off, turn off the lights.
I was worried that she would have another crazy accident
when no one was there. I had an RPA bag packed for her with toothbrush,
shampoo, hearing aid batteries, a couple of books etc. It felt so grim but I
could see that she was still teetering around quite drunk at night and it
seemed inevitable. But she never did.
I feel so extraordinarily sad and it seems like such a shock
and at the same time I have sort of felt this coming for a couple of years, for
a year at least. I have called mum almost every day for the last year no matter
where I am. I feel happy about that. And I feel happy about the time I’ve spent
at home over the last year. And I feel happy that I have had a chance to make
living amends and will continue to do that. I feel happy that I am sober for
this and can get through this and do what I need to do at this time for my mum
with dignity and grace. I feel like I got sober for this, to be able to take
care of mum one last time. I feel really grateful for that and I will do my
best. I wont get involved in any drama, I will just do the next right thing and
pray to god for help and try to be the best most loving person I can be.
