DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER....
Sorry this is a long post but I do hope you stick with it. This is an insight to a very special lady, and you may learn something about strength and courage. I just wish my literary skills were better, and that I could tell the whole story. This is just something my heart had to say.....
People enter and depart from our lives, some leave a mark, others just past through. Sometimes we take for granted how their moulding structured our persona.
Never for one moment have I ever doubted how one woman turned my life around.
BARBARA, MY DIAMOND .
My special mum, how lucky am I that I had two mothers in my life. We decided from the start that we didn't like the title step-mum, and to call her Barbara some how seemed disrespectful. So I have always called her mum, and all cards had special mum/mother written on them.
Let me please give you a brief résumé of my special mums life.
Beginning
She was born in a little farming village in Somerset, she had one elder brother who she adored. An idyllic childhood, growing up in this beautiful part of the country. The stories she has told me, about her bicycle rides around all the villages (I promised not to share)!!! Everyone knew and loved Barbara, the good looking girl, who always had a smile on her face. Her popularity grew as she qualified to become a hairdresser. The village women had never looked so smart, with coiffered perms and tailored hair.
As in all stories our heroine thought she had met her prince charming. He was a Sergeant in the Army, they married and lived with her parents. Shortly after, she bore him a son. When the baby was three months old, he walked out of the door, never to return, leaving her alone with her son. I say alone, this isn't quite true, she had her mother, father and a brother. Unlike her husband they would stay true to her and her son.
Her father owned the local garage and taxi service (the only one in the village), her brother worked along side him. They supported Barbara in opening her own hairdressing salon. This was located in the next town. Her mother looked after her son, whilst she was working at the salon.
Everything appeared to be going nicely, Barbara's business was a success. She had managed to raise her son, drive around in a nice little sporty number, dress in all the latest fashion, which in this small little village made her stand out from the crowd. All this she had done on her own with the support of her family. Being financially independent meant not having to search out her husband, for any maintenance payments towards his sons upbringing. Barbara was a smart attractive independent woman, a rarity in that day and age.
You know whats coming don't you?
It was all going to well, why for some do things have to change, I don't know.
Barbara's mother was suddenly struck down with chronic muscular and osteo-arthritis. This raged throughout her body at an alarming speed, leaving her unable to attend to any of her personal care needs, even to hold a knife and fork became impossible.
My very very special mum, without hesitation or thought, sold her business, started a kind of mobile hairdressing service within the village (this was a revolutionary idea at the time), and she took over the care and running of the family home, her father, mother, brother and her son.
She worked tirelessly, never complaining at all of her chores. Then began the next chapter. Her friend Win, who owned a public house in Yeovil, (a nearby town) became unexpectedly short staffed one Saturday night and she begged my mum to help her out.
(I need to try and speed things up here or I will still be doing this, this time next week).
So to cut a long story short, arrangements were made to look after nan for that evening, and mum ended up helping her friend by serving behind the bar.
If you could now use your imagination and picture this next scene through a rose coloured lens with harp music playing serenely in the back ground.
(From left to right) Dad and Barb, with her sister in law and brother . Barn Dance 1968.
So here is the scene: Attractive barmaid, stood drying wine glass, bar door opens. In walk a group of uniformed navel officers. A tall dark haired and extremely good-looking Chief Petty officer (this is my dad) walks over to Barbara.
She lifts her head to take his order, he turns to her, their eyes meet and BOOM, BANG, CRASH, WALLOP .
Well that was that. They got married and things were going great.
(I understood the instant that I met Barb, why my dad had fallen so madly and passionately head over heels in love with her.
I couldn't say he was wrong for falling in love with another woman, any more than I could my birth mum was wrong for falling in love with another man, these things happen!!!!!)
With my father now living in Somerset, my elder sister and I didn't really see any difference, dad had always been away from us at sea in any event. Only now I had this wonderful lady who lived in paradise, an elder step brother who would stick up for me should anyone dare mess me about. Life had definitely turned full circle for me, I felt like I was in heaven.
This lovely woman would spend hours brushing my hair, with dad and her completing a plait each, moving quickly to see who would finish first. This was attention I'd never had before, and I positively bloomed on it.
That was when my hair was long, really long. It went down to my thighs and I of course hated it, and I would go on and on for her to cut it short. Barbara would convince me to do it in stages, " a few inch's at a time darling". This was how she came into my life, bit by bit, always the safe 'port in a storm', never demanding or over-powering.
She encouraged me to reach goals, were others had moved the posts away, that's why shes a special mum!!!
Life changing events.
When I was fifteen life hit Barb and I a cruel blow, my dad was killed in a car accident.
Numb and in pain, our lives carried on, I moved back to live with my birth mother, who now had two more daughters with her second husband.
Barbara and I could never be apart, we had a bond, something no one could destroy. We had made a pact, she was my special mum and I was the daughter she had always wanted.
At every given opportunity I was back in Somerset, she was so proud of me when I followed her example and brought my own hairdressing salon.
Even prouder when I gave her, her first and only grandchild. My son would spend weeks of his summer holidays with his Nana, loving Somerset just like I did as a child.
She would hold my hand and tell me how proud my dad would have been of me. We would cry as we talked about my father, who would have been in his element playing with his grandson. This was part of our bond, I would never lose my dad whilst I have her to share his memory.
(From left to right) My dad and Barb, with her sister in law and brother. At a formal dance. Yeovilton 1968
I must try and conclude this story, but its so hard not being able to tell you all the marvelous things we shared, the boozy nights, the laughs the tears.
Diane had her Paul Burrel as her rock, Laural had his Hardy, I have Barbara, my diamond.
The years flew by, she never married again, although there were a few boyfriends. She cared for her mother maintaining her care and dignity until she passed away. As her fathers health declined she continued to care for him' although Barb herself was now into her late 50s. Her father became very possessive of Barb, and wouldn't allow her very much time of her own. Of course Barb never ever complained about this.
By now my step- brother had married and lived about a forty minute drive away. I love my step brother and am extremely fond of his wife. Now, how is going to be the best way I can describe them? Let me try this. My mum and I at times were a little bit riotous. No, no, that's to strong, we enjoyed a drink, a laugh, and some times a sing-song if the locals were having A-BIT-OF-A-DO.
On the other hand, my brother and his wife , lead a very calm and conservative life, yes that sounds about right. With my visits only happening 2 to 3 times a year, we were always very excitable when we met, and my brother would have to do his headmaster routine with us.
Barb with my son, her grandson, on her 70th birthday party.
Anyway I digress, mum had met this wealthy local farmer, he owns large areas of orchards and fields and his home is gorgeous. On the land by his home he has Llamas and rare cattle. It is in fact a bit like a Dr Doolittle film set.
He has an eclectic collection of cars including two Rolls Royce. Often with mum, he had one of these chauffeur driven to the races, to watch his horses run. My mum had hit her 70s and was now having some 'me time'. Fan-flipping-fantastic.
He begged and pleaded with my mum for her to move in with him, but she was having none of that. She loved her little bungalow and that was that. So he moved in with her. He would rise early in the morning, go to his farm and feed his pets. His two sons had properties on the land, and he would sort out business matters with them. Then he would return back to mum.
Me and mum , misbehaving......
Changes to life
So here's my special mum going to Ascot in a Rolls, drinking champagne, 'wonderful'!!!!!!!!!!
I can't remember when or how the change started really, and I'm not judging anyone. We all have different tolerance levels, and opinions of our own, only some people think that their opinions are the correct ones.
I received a phone call from my sister-in-law who told me that they had called at mums and found that she was still in bed at 11.30am, sleeping in her underskirt, yes in her underskirt, not her nightie, her underskirt. Well Ding- Bloody- Dong, so what? Eighty two, previous day at the races, goodness knows how much champagne she'd consumed. If it had have been me I might not have even reached the underskirt stage.
It was a steady downward trail from there, and unfortunately I get extremely upset, so this post may never happen.
Don (mums boyfriend), decided that it was too risky to take mum to the races any more, she had become a little unsteady on her feet and her hearing was deteriorating. He still went though, leaving mum on her own for many hours.
They had not seen this before, mum had always hidden a certain part of her life style away from my brother and his wife, knowing of their disapproval. She did enjoy a drink, had never eaten that much but really liked chocolate, but she had always put on a facade for my brother and his wife. Me, I thought, she's into her eighties, 'good on ya', enjoy whats left, its time for us to watch over you.
Don told my brother that he could no longer cope with mum, she was getting forgetful, and I suppose standards, such as the meals she had cooked for him, were dropping. Things sort of happened so quickly. They took her to a doctor who said she was showing signs of dementia. They phoned me to tell me that they had decided she needed to go into a home. It is at this point I realised that I am only the step-daughter and my opinions were to be my own.
I was consoled slightly that they were trying to get her into a home in her village, where some of her friends actually resided. As if by some cruel fate, mum was taken into hospital with a chest infection, and this gave them chance to move into her home and take it apart.
They started to pack her belongings and found items that had been cherished by Barb. They found poems my dad had written Barb and that she had kept in a bible, they asked me if I wanted them. It was like she were dead and all her belongings were being torn apart. I voiced my disapproval at this act, stating that she hadn't finished with them yet. The atmosphere between us became cold, they didn't want her with them, but she wasn't allowed to come to me (one would loose the control they had waited so long to have).
Time passed and there was no place available at the local home, so they arranged for her to move into a home which they said and I quote, "specialises in dementia". It was about a forty minute drive for them, the same as if she were at home, but an hour and a half away from mums village and friends. She was in hospital her home was gone.
They didn't tell her that her home has been ripped apart (this would cause too much distress, apparently), so on being discharged from the hospital they arranged for the ambulance to drop her at the home. She was told that she would be staying there until she could look after herself then she could go home. Of course, there was now no home to return too!
After a few weeks I was told that they were having to sedate Barb as her behaviour was becoming aggressive. I tried to explain that she needed to be told the truth, but apparently the chap there with undertaking his stage three NVQ training, and knew better than me, who has worked for many years with the elderly whilst nursing on the district. There was a distance growing between my step brother and I, and I feared that any links I had would stop. I knew I had to accept their decisions for fear of not being informed about my mum.
The first visit I had to the home in which my mother now 'existed' filled me with horror. The other residents were in an advanced stage of dementia. Heavily sedated, and to be blunt sat like vegetables, on plastic covered chairs in a sterile environment. My mother had been a hairdresser and like me loved to socialise, it was her whole essence of living. We took her out for the day and when we returned back to the home her grip on my arm tightened and she said"I've not got to go back there have I?" My eyes filled up and I didn't know what to say. I was reprimanded by my sister in law for showing a tear, but it broke my heart.
Heck I don't know how long this post is going to take, I have to keep leaving, because I keep crying. I never thought getting my special mum on my blog would be so painful. I've taken a little of her advise and poured myself a glass of wine, so hold on now.
I've actually remembered what my son did that day when we took her out. He went to the bar to get his Nana a second glass of wine, my brother has them watered down with soda water, which my son had done but she had enjoyed it so much, had requested another. My son was quick to respond to this request, not seeing her to often, and I think he was shocked at how she had aged. He was making sure she had all his attention. My brother immediately ran up to him at the bar and told him to get her just a soda water. My son said "I will add some soda to it, but if my nan wants to enjoy a wine that's what her grandson will buy her, and no one will stop me". And boy did she enjoy it, she started to sing to Nat who thought his nan was wonderful.
Opening her Christmas presents. 2006
Determination and chocolates
Time has past and mum will be 87 years young this July. There are still problems within the home as they clearly don't want her there, and have made an order that she has to be removed. As her health has deteriorated drastically in the last two weeks, my brother and his wife have found a nursing home that she now needs. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending upon how you view the situation, she cannot be moved at the moment. (If the hoist is put around her she screams out in pain).
Last week my sister in law called to say that Barb had eaten no food and had only had a little water for three days and to expect the worst. But guess what, on day four she managed a chocolate, you can't help but love her can you????????????????????????
They say diamonds are a girls best friend, that is so true of this diamond and this girl.
