Chai Loving Mumma

It is a strange thing to mourn someone, yet know that even if they were alive today, you still wouldn’t have them. To have my Mum back, the Mum I adored when I was growing up, the Mum that I want to talk to and ask questions of, I would need a time machine to take me back to the days pre-alcohol.

A year ago today, Rafe and I returned home from our evening walk to find a police car parked outside our house. It was about 8:45pm. They asked for me and I wondered why police would be asking for me. They asked for us to go inside and said it was regarding Dorothy Tinney. I instantly felt sick and knew it was something bad, but even so, it was still a shock when they told me that she had passed away, and had been found dead in her bed that morning.  A friend had been worried as Mum had not returned her calls for a few days; she went to Mum’s house, sensed something was wrong, broke in and found Mum.

We did not receive the coroner’s report until mid-year – the verdict was that she died of an enlarged heart, most likely due to alcohol abuse. Her doctor had been telling her for years to get her heart checked. I had tried getting her to get it checked. She had an appointment for heart monitoring the following week. The coroner’s report was grisly; I am both so relieved to have not seen her (I was not allowed to view the body and at the time of her death there was speculation that the coroner’s office would require me to take a DNA test in order for them to positively identify her. It was decided though that they could accept circumstantial evidence as to her identity), and I feel so much for the woman who did find her. I imagine she will have nightmares for years.

The official date of death is the date she was found, January 20th, 2010, however we do not know for sure the exact day she died. The last we could pinpoint someone having spoken with her was January 15th, the Saturday before.

The next day we went down to her house and started the long process of packing up her life. I had not spoken to Mum in 2 years and 2 months. The picture of those two years of her life, painted by her friends and the contents of her house, was very dark. A couple of months earlier she’d been discharged from the hospital, with notes that she was suffering from alcohol-induced dementia.

I have known for many years that the alcohol would kill her, either from the toll on her body or an accident happening whilst she was drunk. I just never knew when – whether it would be within a couple of years or whether she would be one of those people who just continue on and on despite all odds. Alcoholism is such an insidious disease. It is so easily ignored, brushed away, denied. It destroys lives but first it destroys relationships and everyone around the alcoholic. We live in a society where people don’t want to think of anyone they know as an alcoholic because then they may just have to look at how much and how often they drink too.

I am not a teetotaller, I enjoy my cocktails, the odd port or wine but I am careful and these days I drink rarely. I don’t think I have that part inside that gets addicted to alcohol but I am never going to take that chance either.

I miss my Mum. I miss the lifestyle I remember from my childhood. I really miss having someone around who has known me my whole life. Known me on a daily basis. I have so many questions about my upbringing and no-one can answer them for me. I miss the Mum that I could confide in. I wish I could share Zac with my Mum from my childhood. However, I missed all this before she died. I lost my Mum long ago, it just hadn’t been finalised.

I visited her grave today. She had a corner spot in a memorial garden. I’ve yet to organise a plaque or any kind of monument, but I have the words and now I have some additional ideas. The grave had not been touched since we buried her ashes last year, There was still the hollow indent where there wasn’t quite enough dirt. The pebbles were still very unevenly scattered. I like that it has just been left. I like that it is a peaceful, out-of-the-way cemetery. Nearby graves had personal items such as dragon crystal balls, lego pieces, photographs. I like the feeling that whatever I decide to put there, no-one will mess with.

Mum was always adamant that she wanted to be buried somewhere so that I could come and visit her grave. I never understood the sentiment. I’ve only visited my grandparents’ graves once or twice, with family. It never really struck me as something that I would do. But now I understand. I’m glad to have a place to visit, somewhere to go that is a place dedicated to her memory.

So you’ll know where to find me next January 20. I’ll be at the Bellbrae Cemetery, visiting memories of Mum.

My social mojo is missing in action. Or inaction, as the case may be. It has fallen before the physical, emotional and mental onslaught that came with the territory of having a baby. There is no one contributing factor, rather a variety of things combine to make me the earliest pumpkiniser that ever pumpkinned.

I lack the clarity of thought that comes with regular, quality sleep so struggle to participate in conversations in any meaningful way. My days and nights are almost exclusively about my baby, resulting in a limited topic range. If there’s a conversation about lack of sleep, teething issues, crying, or crawling progress I can hold my own. In between yawns and mind blanks. Move the topic to something else, work, politics, religion or sex and I’m lost at sea. I do listen to the radio each day, and I hear the news that is happening in the world, but listening to something and formulating opinions about something so you can talk about it, are two entirely different things!

It is hard for any event to compete with the prospect of sleep; and especially difficult for anything to take me away from sleep, and sleep away from me. I want to stay late, to enjoy wonderful company, drink wine and sample the adult world again; I see other mums doing that and marvel at how they survive. How do they stay up late and not have a meltdown the following day. Or maybe they do but they feel it’s worth it. Who knows.

Since Zac was born, we’ve gone to two weddings, a midwinter gathering, and a mortgage commitment ceremony/party. We’ve also not attended a family 40th and our goddaughter’s first birthday party. It seems 2011 is a year of major changes and celebrations in the lives of many who we hold dear. We have celebrated these events with our friends, briefly; returning home to our castle (figuratively speaking – could you imagine how much a real castle would cost in the inner city?!) usually by 9 at the very latest. Receptions are something that everyone else attends. The two weddings were lovely, and not too overwhelming. Not knowing many people at a social occasion really reduces the amount of social mojo required. However midwinter and the mortgage party were events within our community, our circle. Lots of people we know. Apparently everyone else has been sprogging too, because suddenly there are lots of children and babies around and it can be quite overwhelming.

…….  There was more to write, but now over a month has gone by since I started this post, so time to just post it!