70 | June• 2018MY MOTHER’S TORMENTcoming home very late. It was dark
outside and my sisters and I were in
the kitchen when Dad appeared at
the door with tears streaming down
his red, pinched face.
he next thing I remember is pack-
ing. I was afraid we were leaving Mum
behind. I asked Dad if Mum was com-
ing with us, and he said, “No”. My
heart cried that we were going some-
where without Mum knowing.Even today, some 46 years later,
it’s impossible for me to celebrate a
birthday without thinking of Mum’s
suicide. I have made peace with it by
iguring that she just couldn’t bear to
go back to the mental hospital, and I
came to understand that her poorW
hen I was little, my mum was often
unwell and had to go to hospital for
long periods of time. To my delight,
after a long separation, Mum came
home to celebrate my sixth birthday.
I was ecstatic. She gave me a doll along with doll’s clothes
she had made while in hospital. Dad and my three older
sisters all sang ‘Happy Birthday’.I can’t remember whether there
was cake or candles – all I remember
is the chorus of my family singing
‘Happy Birthday’. Mum’s voice was
the loudest, and I remember feeling
very special. It was a Friday, and I had
my family around me. It had been a
while since we’d all been together
and I remember – in that moment –
that my world felt right.
Two days later, on Sunday, March
5, 1972, she died.
Mum was just 38, but had been un-
well for much of my life. She’d been
in and out of mental hospitals, her
own life ruined by what I can only
guess was an inner torment – and
mental illness.
Mum’s curse was ours to share –
by this time, my three sisters and I
had already spent time in a number
of orphanages and foundling homes.
Never more than four weeks at a
time, it had always been my father’s
last-resort option.
I don’t remember being told of
Mum’s death. I only remember Dad,
himself unwell with depression,MUM WAS JUST 38,
BUT HAD BEEN
UNWELL FOR MUCH OF
MY LIFE, IN AND OUT
OF MENTAL HOSPITALSLETTER COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR