At the end of February of last year I got a phone call from my sister informing me that our mother (then aged 84) had suffered a major stroke and had been admitted to Addenbrooke’s stroke ward, in Cambridge.
As I’ve already discussed, I felt immense sorrow and regret over not seeing my father before he died. So when my sister offered to pay for my ticket over to the UK to see our mother I jumped at the chance.
I put my life on hold for the next eight weeks and looked after my mother’s every whim and need. It was a very stressful time in my life, without even taking into account things that were happening back in Belgium! That is a story for another day…
Then in November of last year my mother rang me up and announced that my son would be staying at University to study over the Christmas period. This bombshell left me feeling lower than low at a time in my life when I was already down in the dumps.
Eventually, I rang up my son only to find out that my mother wanted him to come and pick her up at home, take her over to Italy – where my sister and her family live – then return to Italy and take her back over to the UK. Now this vital piece of information, for what ever reason, my mother had withheld!
So we both agreed that he (my son) would come over to Brussels and spend the Christmas holidays with me, his godmother and our friends. Anyway, after talking to my sister it was agreed that we would all spend Christmas in Italy with her and her family… From my point of view we all had a good time but obviously something about this arrangement didn’t sit well with my mother!
Now fast forward to last week, and yet another phone call from my mother letting me know that she was off to Italy, and yes you guessed it, once again she wanted my son to come and pick her up and take her over. Only this time my son would be spending a week in Italy before starting his summer job in London.
When I pointed out that had I have known I would have booked myself a ticket to Italy so that I could spend some time with my son she responded that she thought I was saving up to go to Sierra Leon (Africa) later this year. In that moment I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart, so I hung up on her.
I can’t help but feeling that she orchestrated the whole thing so that I would not be able to come over. Why do I think this? This time around she dropped her bombshell two days before their departure, knowing full well that I would never find a cheap ticket or for that matter someone to come and look after my cats…
When it comes to my mother I perpetually feel like I’m all dressed up for the party, but never get the invitation. Furthermore, I hate the fact that the woman can still reduce me to tears!