The way she was?
I'm having trouble remembering Mum as she was. The memories that are strongest and occur most often are sad or hurting somehow. I don't want the sad to be how I remember Mum.
Once, first year of college or so, I'd been home for a weekend or something and Mum was going to drive me to Hamilton to catch a bus so I was on time for something or other (work, school, call, appt??). I told her a time and I was ready to go a few minutes before, while trying to rush her into catching up. She made us late to leave for some reason I'm not sure of, so as we were approaching Hamilton on the 403 I was checking the time and decided I would definitely be late for that bus. So I needed mum to drive me all the way into Toronto. At that point she'd been staying off the highways for awhile and was more than nervous when she actually had to use it. I asked her if she wanted me to drive and made it a very insistent offer, but she wouldn't pull over, she wanted to do it. So we continued and I reassured her by telling her we could stay in the slow lane, go as slowly as she needed, and I figured there would be a lot of slow moving traffic (which there was as we got into Oakville).
I was giving her directions as we went, telling her when to change lanes and such. She was doing fine staying in the slow lane and flowing with traffic until we came to Ford Drive in Oakville. I knew that it was a right exit lane so I gave her the instructions as we came up to it and I said 'stay to the left'. We got closer and I could feel her going right. "Stay to the left, Stay to the left!" She was going right so I leaned over and turned her wheel, veering us quickly across between the lines and back onto the QEW towards downtown. It really scared her and she cried and panicked for a bit. Fortunately the traffic was pretty heavy, so we were going pretty slow for awhile afterwards. Mum was crying and scared, and I was feeling guilty for inflicting. I guess I couldn't be late for whatever was so important that I couldn't afford the extra 1/2 hour it was going to take to instruct mum on how to fix the wrong turn. In retrospect I think if I'd just been able to get her off the highway we could park and I could take over, fixing the issue in half the time. But maybe the way it did happen was the lesser of pains for both of us.
The rest of the drive was calm and once we got off the highway she relaxed a little. When she dropped me off at Kipling subway I sent her back home by way of hwy 5, which she knew quite well out Hamilton way. Hwy 5 is Bloor st. which the subway follows, so all she had to do was take one left turn, then follow the road until she began recognizing things. At that time she was still quite comfortable driving on secondary highways and streets, so she had a pleasant drive and got home safely.
Was I selfish to inflict such panic and discomfort on my mum? This was before she was officially diagnosed, and certainly before she told me about it. I don't remember what it was I was going to be late for, but it couldn't have been so important that I would risk both our lives, stress us both out, and scare my mum. I should have waited for the next bus and sent Mum home from Hamilton, but I guess I was angry, or frustrated maybe and I wanted to be there NOW. Maybe I can understand how I probably felt at the time, but it's hard to remember accurately while I have all the information and perspective of now. The older a memory gets, the less and less detailed it is.
At that time Mum was getting increasingly unreliable, emotional, incompetent, and generally unstable.....and no one knew why. Daddy was gone most of the week, and when he was home he was very unhappy and tired. He understood probably less than anyone. We didn't know and we were all frustrated and angry. Me least of all. I was living an hour away, I was in college, I had a boyfriend, and a life for the first time, so I probably was selfish. I can't justify what I did, and I can't say it was a good choice, but it is what it is
Now that I've got that out of my system some of the happier memories are showing themselves in flashes of colour and light and textures.
When we were little mum got a perm and, as her hair grew out it relaxed so that her hair hung flat at the top and puffy at the bottom. Christy and I thought it looked like the ears of a cocker spaniel and it gave us a happy giggle. The only dog we really knew was the Cooper's cocker spaniel, Shadow. So it was a happy association. Mum's hair was soft and I remember Christy laughing at it falling in her face when mum leaned over to kiss her goodnight.
I remember watching her in the backyard on sunny days. Watering the plants, surrounded by green.
I remember the way she danced, very cool, like she didn't care at all.
Those great Sundays at Westfield. We would always go over to the Misener house to mooch whatever food Mum and Ruthanne were making.
The first hints that our conversations were becoming 'adult'. I wish that I could mature with my mum around to talk to, to give advice, to support, to be my mum.
But my life is good and I feel like I'm a good person. Mum provided the environment, and the nurturing, and the guidance to make me what I am.
Once, first year of college or so, I'd been home for a weekend or something and Mum was going to drive me to Hamilton to catch a bus so I was on time for something or other (work, school, call, appt??). I told her a time and I was ready to go a few minutes before, while trying to rush her into catching up. She made us late to leave for some reason I'm not sure of, so as we were approaching Hamilton on the 403 I was checking the time and decided I would definitely be late for that bus. So I needed mum to drive me all the way into Toronto. At that point she'd been staying off the highways for awhile and was more than nervous when she actually had to use it. I asked her if she wanted me to drive and made it a very insistent offer, but she wouldn't pull over, she wanted to do it. So we continued and I reassured her by telling her we could stay in the slow lane, go as slowly as she needed, and I figured there would be a lot of slow moving traffic (which there was as we got into Oakville).
I was giving her directions as we went, telling her when to change lanes and such. She was doing fine staying in the slow lane and flowing with traffic until we came to Ford Drive in Oakville. I knew that it was a right exit lane so I gave her the instructions as we came up to it and I said 'stay to the left'. We got closer and I could feel her going right. "Stay to the left, Stay to the left!" She was going right so I leaned over and turned her wheel, veering us quickly across between the lines and back onto the QEW towards downtown. It really scared her and she cried and panicked for a bit. Fortunately the traffic was pretty heavy, so we were going pretty slow for awhile afterwards. Mum was crying and scared, and I was feeling guilty for inflicting. I guess I couldn't be late for whatever was so important that I couldn't afford the extra 1/2 hour it was going to take to instruct mum on how to fix the wrong turn. In retrospect I think if I'd just been able to get her off the highway we could park and I could take over, fixing the issue in half the time. But maybe the way it did happen was the lesser of pains for both of us.
The rest of the drive was calm and once we got off the highway she relaxed a little. When she dropped me off at Kipling subway I sent her back home by way of hwy 5, which she knew quite well out Hamilton way. Hwy 5 is Bloor st. which the subway follows, so all she had to do was take one left turn, then follow the road until she began recognizing things. At that time she was still quite comfortable driving on secondary highways and streets, so she had a pleasant drive and got home safely.
Was I selfish to inflict such panic and discomfort on my mum? This was before she was officially diagnosed, and certainly before she told me about it. I don't remember what it was I was going to be late for, but it couldn't have been so important that I would risk both our lives, stress us both out, and scare my mum. I should have waited for the next bus and sent Mum home from Hamilton, but I guess I was angry, or frustrated maybe and I wanted to be there NOW. Maybe I can understand how I probably felt at the time, but it's hard to remember accurately while I have all the information and perspective of now. The older a memory gets, the less and less detailed it is.
At that time Mum was getting increasingly unreliable, emotional, incompetent, and generally unstable.....and no one knew why. Daddy was gone most of the week, and when he was home he was very unhappy and tired. He understood probably less than anyone. We didn't know and we were all frustrated and angry. Me least of all. I was living an hour away, I was in college, I had a boyfriend, and a life for the first time, so I probably was selfish. I can't justify what I did, and I can't say it was a good choice, but it is what it is
Now that I've got that out of my system some of the happier memories are showing themselves in flashes of colour and light and textures.
When we were little mum got a perm and, as her hair grew out it relaxed so that her hair hung flat at the top and puffy at the bottom. Christy and I thought it looked like the ears of a cocker spaniel and it gave us a happy giggle. The only dog we really knew was the Cooper's cocker spaniel, Shadow. So it was a happy association. Mum's hair was soft and I remember Christy laughing at it falling in her face when mum leaned over to kiss her goodnight.
I remember watching her in the backyard on sunny days. Watering the plants, surrounded by green.
I remember the way she danced, very cool, like she didn't care at all.
Those great Sundays at Westfield. We would always go over to the Misener house to mooch whatever food Mum and Ruthanne were making.
The first hints that our conversations were becoming 'adult'. I wish that I could mature with my mum around to talk to, to give advice, to support, to be my mum.
But my life is good and I feel like I'm a good person. Mum provided the environment, and the nurturing, and the guidance to make me what I am.