grandma
lately my thoughts have been on death more than is usual. this must be because of the anniversary of my mum's death, followed by the anniversary of my friend's mum's death. my friend's mum's funeral was filmed so that people overseas could see it and on the anniversary of her death we watched the film. it showed a large family celebrating the life of a remarkable woman, cut to the quick by her absence.
when my grandma died i missed her funeral. grandma was my mum's mum and was an afrikaans-speaker who had been uprooted from cape town to follow her husband to his beloved north wales. she had 5 young children, one from her first marriage, and spoke no welsh. my mum's dad died not long afterwards, leaving grandma to try to feed her kids on national assistance. my mum remembered how the authorities would come round and if you had more chairs than members of the family they would take the extra ones away to sell.
my gran took in sewing and kept chickens and somehow managed to bring up her kids in what must have been a hostile and unfamiliar environment. to the end of her life she had a broad afrikaans accent. she was a tough woman, but kind and fair. i spent many school holidays at her house when my sisters went on holiday abroad with their dad. gran's house was called "gorfwysfa" which means "place of peace". it was a solid house built of slates blocks and looked out over a marsh. the marsh had mysterious blue lights at night from the gas. my cousins and i were scared to go too far into it because of quicksand.
we went back to north wales to sprinkle mum's ashes and tried to find the house. we drove all round the village but were unable to find either the house or the marsh. we stopped to ask some builders who were doing up a slate house and amazingly it was gran's house. where the marsh had been was a forest which was why i did not recognise it. it brought home how long ago it had been when i stayed there.
when gran died i had just had a miscarriage and was off work. my mum's twin sister rang me up. "grandma has died" she told me. i asked when the funeral would be. "we have already buried her" answered my aunt "we didn't think you would be able to make it because of being pregnant". i was shocked to the core. grandma had been one of the few stable things about my childhood. it felt as though i had been robbed of the chance to say goodbye. i told my aunt that in fact i was no longer pregnant but that even if i had been i would have been able to come to the funeral. i told her how shocked i was that i had not been told of grandma's death.
my aunt went on to say that my other aunt, who had arranged the funeral, thought that if i knew about it beforehand i might bring my mum. by this time my mum was demented and confused. my aunt had apparently been worried she might "make a scene or jump in the grave or something". so my mother never got the chance to say goodbye either.
i have not spoken to the aunt who organised the funeral since. my mum's twin is someone who would not have dared to go against her, but i am left feeling that she too betrayed me. the capacity of my family to make me feel utterly unimportant never ceases to amaze me.
when my grandma died i missed her funeral. grandma was my mum's mum and was an afrikaans-speaker who had been uprooted from cape town to follow her husband to his beloved north wales. she had 5 young children, one from her first marriage, and spoke no welsh. my mum's dad died not long afterwards, leaving grandma to try to feed her kids on national assistance. my mum remembered how the authorities would come round and if you had more chairs than members of the family they would take the extra ones away to sell.
my gran took in sewing and kept chickens and somehow managed to bring up her kids in what must have been a hostile and unfamiliar environment. to the end of her life she had a broad afrikaans accent. she was a tough woman, but kind and fair. i spent many school holidays at her house when my sisters went on holiday abroad with their dad. gran's house was called "gorfwysfa" which means "place of peace". it was a solid house built of slates blocks and looked out over a marsh. the marsh had mysterious blue lights at night from the gas. my cousins and i were scared to go too far into it because of quicksand.
we went back to north wales to sprinkle mum's ashes and tried to find the house. we drove all round the village but were unable to find either the house or the marsh. we stopped to ask some builders who were doing up a slate house and amazingly it was gran's house. where the marsh had been was a forest which was why i did not recognise it. it brought home how long ago it had been when i stayed there.
when gran died i had just had a miscarriage and was off work. my mum's twin sister rang me up. "grandma has died" she told me. i asked when the funeral would be. "we have already buried her" answered my aunt "we didn't think you would be able to make it because of being pregnant". i was shocked to the core. grandma had been one of the few stable things about my childhood. it felt as though i had been robbed of the chance to say goodbye. i told my aunt that in fact i was no longer pregnant but that even if i had been i would have been able to come to the funeral. i told her how shocked i was that i had not been told of grandma's death.
my aunt went on to say that my other aunt, who had arranged the funeral, thought that if i knew about it beforehand i might bring my mum. by this time my mum was demented and confused. my aunt had apparently been worried she might "make a scene or jump in the grave or something". so my mother never got the chance to say goodbye either.
i have not spoken to the aunt who organised the funeral since. my mum's twin is someone who would not have dared to go against her, but i am left feeling that she too betrayed me. the capacity of my family to make me feel utterly unimportant never ceases to amaze me.
posted by mafalda's daughter at 4:59 am
2 Comments:
The same sort of thing happened to my Mum, more than once her family in England didn't bother telling my Mum that her sisters or her mother had died until after the funeral. Why, I don't know. It's a slap in the face though.
I really can't imagine anything more demeaning & hurtful. And those words don't even begin to touch on how it must feel.
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