Friday, December 05, 2008

[memories] can't bring them back

Arthur's Seat and Dromana

Whenever I'd visit Australia, to see my parents, one of the jobs was to take my aging mum down the peninsular and up across the ridge to Arthur's Seat, which had a restaurant complex and a concrete outdoors area called, I seem to remember, the Garden of the Moon.

The purpose was to have tea and scones, with jam and clotted cream, then it would be down the winding, hairpin road, underneath the chairlift at every pass, to the foot of the hill and thus down to Rosebud, Rye, Blairgowrie and Sorrento, where there was a fabulous ice cream parlour in the main street.

Actually, any trip would have done, as long as it had icecream somewhere along the way.

The last time I saw my mother alive was at Tullamarine Airport and I told her, "Just a few months, mum and I'll be back again." She smiled weakly, as if to say, "Right, well that remains to be seen." That was one of her favourite expressions. She didn't get out of the car and come in to see me off because the previous year she'd wandered from us and we'd had a job trying to locate where she'd gone.

I write here about the latter days but should dwell on the earlier era, when she was well, fit and as sharp as a tack. Nothing got past her - she'd listen to someone's story and make no comment but it was clear to all what she was thinking. In my case, I make comment, which gets me into all sorts of trouble.

The thing was - she was a phenomenon, she had to be negotiated around, she was loyal to friends to a fault and I don't recall one instance when she ever let me down, as distinct from the reverse. I think I was spoilt. When my friend's mum comes in these days, goes upstairs to change the bedding, comes down for a cup of tea and explains how they found a bargain over at this store but not at this one and what do I think of these cushion covers she found and they're going out later to dinner with friends and so on and so on ... I see much of my own mother in there.

I have a photo of her in the lucid days, sitting on a bench seat in the park, holding a picnic basket with the thermos flask poking out and two plastic cups inside under the tea towel. Everyone used to call her sweet and that comes out in the photo - she had a great many friends. We used to talk about plans for the future and she warned me about her memory then.

Quite matter-of-factly, she said not to argue but her memory was slowly fading - it was her bronchitis drugs, which she didn't hold with but had no choice. She said that if we were going to discuss important things, it would be better to do it now or the following year - she couldn't guarantee too much after that.

Now I have the start of bronchitis but that sort of thing is still far off, I hope.

One memory which sticks is her sitting at the dining table whilst I cooked an easy dinner for them, followed by fruit salad and ice-cream. She always thought that most amusing and never once mentioned the errors in preparation. She'd worry about me ending up alone and though I never was, I nevertheless was and still am, to make things as clear as mud. She never wanted to be alone and thank the Lord, it never turned out to be so - she was surrounded until the end, except by me, who was overseas.

So happy birthday, mum - I'm sure you'll pop down for a few minutes this evening and might even be reading this now. I'm sure they could spare you from running heaven for one day but no doubt there'll be a mess to clear up later when you get back. Say hello to the family for me.

Last year's post on this topic is here and glancing through the comments, how things have changed in one short year. Such is life.

Arthur's Seat at dusk


3 comments:

  1. You always write so poignantly about your Mum.I hope that she can read these sentiments.

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  2. What a beautiful tribute to your Mum, I am sure she is looking down on you right now.

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  3. I have now lived through the age at which my parents were when I remember them best. Unfortunately, neither lived long enough for us to discuss it.

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