ron
last night i received a phone call from gaynor. i met gaynor at my mum's funeral. she is the daughter of ron, the man who befriended my mum and looked after her in her last years as she descended into dementia. gaynor told me that ron has died, aged 88, having himself suffered from alzheimers for some years.
i first met ron when my sister and i went up to swansea to see my mum. she had a flat on a council estate that was known to be tough. we travelled up to wales in a bizarre car that my sister had at the time. it was a bright orange reliant kitten which is the same as a reliant robin, but has the advantage of having 4 wheels. i drove and my sister lay down in the back. 80 mph in a plastic box was too much for her.
when we got to my mum's flat there was no-one there. we were a bit worried as my mum had already begun to be a bit vague. then her neighbour put her head over the hedge and said "she's at ron's". my sister and i turned to each other and at the same time said "who the f*** is ron?"
we went round to the house the neighbour had pointed out. it was scruffy compared to the others and had the original windows. the council had replaced the others. the door was answered by a man with brown eyes and bristly hair like a brush. we introduced ourselves and he showed us in. my mum was there in a chair, looking quite well. she had put on weight. ron insisted we had a meal and we sat and chatted. it became clear that mum lived with ron. we were not sure whether as a couple or as friends. she seemed very happy either way.
the plan had been to stay at mums flat. ron's house was not big enough and it was pretty grubby. i think my sister and i stayed in mum's flat but i can't remember.
ron was mad on religion. completely obsessed. if you spoke to him about anything he would turn the subject to religion in one or two sentences. he attended the corrugated iron chapel up the road. it had barbed wire all over it and, even for my mum's estate had a lot of security. it seemed funny my atheist mum ending up with someone who spoke of nothing but god. now and again mum would say "don't be silly, ron!" in a gentle way but mostly she just let him go on. she loved to listen to him reading the bible aloud. ron had a melodious welsh voice that could have made the instructions for kit furniture sound lovely.
ron had been in the navy and then had been a miner. he had worked as a hospital porter in later life, in the hospital where his mother, and later my mother had gone, a huge former asylum on a hill above swansea.
ron had been adamant that he would look after my mum in his home until she died. he managed valiantly for a long time but things got more and more dangerous. mum started throwing stuff into the open fire when ron wasn't in the room. she started hitting him. one day when we had a meeting with the social worker at ron's house my mum was hitting everyone except me. it was almost as though she knew it was me, even though she had ceased to recognise anyone. she never hit me in my life.
in the end i had to get mum sectioned. the ambulance came with the police to take her away. i could have gone to swansea when it was happening but i simply couldn't bear it.
ron visited mum in hospital every day. he cooked her meals and helped the staff look after her. when we went to visit her the staff spoke fondly of ron, and how devoted to mum he was. we used to go and see him at his house after we saw mum and he always seemed like he had a bit of him missing.
it was not until i met ron's daughter gaynor at my mum's funeral that i heard the full story of ron's life. it seemed he had been an alcoholic and had been violent and aggressive. when gaynor was a teenager he had found religion and had given up drinking. he had embraced god in an equally addictive way. when gaynor was 17 her mother had killed herself. gaynor went to live with her grandmother and then got a job as a live-in nanny on a farm on the gower. for years she hardly saw ron. she blamed him for her mother's death.
at my mum's funeral ron wanted to do a reading. gaynor persuaded him to let her husband tony read it for him. this was a good idea as ron would have started preaching a sermon and would have been impossible to stop.
i hope he has now found peace.
i first met ron when my sister and i went up to swansea to see my mum. she had a flat on a council estate that was known to be tough. we travelled up to wales in a bizarre car that my sister had at the time. it was a bright orange reliant kitten which is the same as a reliant robin, but has the advantage of having 4 wheels. i drove and my sister lay down in the back. 80 mph in a plastic box was too much for her.
when we got to my mum's flat there was no-one there. we were a bit worried as my mum had already begun to be a bit vague. then her neighbour put her head over the hedge and said "she's at ron's". my sister and i turned to each other and at the same time said "who the f*** is ron?"
we went round to the house the neighbour had pointed out. it was scruffy compared to the others and had the original windows. the council had replaced the others. the door was answered by a man with brown eyes and bristly hair like a brush. we introduced ourselves and he showed us in. my mum was there in a chair, looking quite well. she had put on weight. ron insisted we had a meal and we sat and chatted. it became clear that mum lived with ron. we were not sure whether as a couple or as friends. she seemed very happy either way.
the plan had been to stay at mums flat. ron's house was not big enough and it was pretty grubby. i think my sister and i stayed in mum's flat but i can't remember.
ron was mad on religion. completely obsessed. if you spoke to him about anything he would turn the subject to religion in one or two sentences. he attended the corrugated iron chapel up the road. it had barbed wire all over it and, even for my mum's estate had a lot of security. it seemed funny my atheist mum ending up with someone who spoke of nothing but god. now and again mum would say "don't be silly, ron!" in a gentle way but mostly she just let him go on. she loved to listen to him reading the bible aloud. ron had a melodious welsh voice that could have made the instructions for kit furniture sound lovely.
ron had been in the navy and then had been a miner. he had worked as a hospital porter in later life, in the hospital where his mother, and later my mother had gone, a huge former asylum on a hill above swansea.
ron had been adamant that he would look after my mum in his home until she died. he managed valiantly for a long time but things got more and more dangerous. mum started throwing stuff into the open fire when ron wasn't in the room. she started hitting him. one day when we had a meeting with the social worker at ron's house my mum was hitting everyone except me. it was almost as though she knew it was me, even though she had ceased to recognise anyone. she never hit me in my life.
in the end i had to get mum sectioned. the ambulance came with the police to take her away. i could have gone to swansea when it was happening but i simply couldn't bear it.
ron visited mum in hospital every day. he cooked her meals and helped the staff look after her. when we went to visit her the staff spoke fondly of ron, and how devoted to mum he was. we used to go and see him at his house after we saw mum and he always seemed like he had a bit of him missing.
it was not until i met ron's daughter gaynor at my mum's funeral that i heard the full story of ron's life. it seemed he had been an alcoholic and had been violent and aggressive. when gaynor was a teenager he had found religion and had given up drinking. he had embraced god in an equally addictive way. when gaynor was 17 her mother had killed herself. gaynor went to live with her grandmother and then got a job as a live-in nanny on a farm on the gower. for years she hardly saw ron. she blamed him for her mother's death.
at my mum's funeral ron wanted to do a reading. gaynor persuaded him to let her husband tony read it for him. this was a good idea as ron would have started preaching a sermon and would have been impossible to stop.
i hope he has now found peace.
posted by mafalda's daughter at 3:25 pm
1 Comments:
As always I am in awe of what people survive, you especially. What we all go through in live, it's enough to crush a soul and yet it doesn't. Why is that?
Your Mum hitting people reminded me of Katie.
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