Families

She was 65 and years of boozing had somewhat scrambled her brains, 3 children from her first marriage and 1 from a subsequent. The eldest son had died a year or so earlier from a circulatory problem, the family history wasn’t good and she herself had had her left leg amputated below the knee 3 years ago. The second boy lived at the other end of the country and was in contact out of duty fairly regularly, she didn’t recall all the things she had told people about him whilst under the influence. She had referred to him as the ‘devils son’ and had wondered how she ‘could have given birth to such a monster’. But when she was sober she was proud of his achievements, he seemed her favourite. Her daughter had followed in her steps and knew only vodka and fags as pleasures in her existence. Her youngest son had some difficulties and had become quite a handful; he was diagnosed schizophrenic but didn’t take his pills when he wanted to booze. Over the last 20 years or so there had been long periods of acrimony between the eldest son, the daughter and their Mother and often years would go by without any contact, usually ended after months of encouragement from the ‘devil’ son.

All siblings were jealous of what the black sheep had achieved, yet were only too happy to receive assistance when required. It was time to call his Mother, she was wheelchair bound, as she never really tried with the artificial leg that stood in the corner. It was strange that there was no answer, it was a Saturday and it had been some time since she was able to shop and her widowed daughter in law used to get her shopping in. The death had brought all together again and unified them in their misunderstanding of the other son. His marriage had broken down since the death of his Brother and his soon to be family had moved back to the hometown, this completing his alienation. His only point of contact was his sister in law but contact could not be made there either. Maybe she had been taken ill and none had thought to contact him to let him know?

He called the hospital and after a degree of passing around was told that they were very sorry but his Mother had died the day before having been taken ill a few days earlier. He had no feelings left after all the years of torture. It was left to a family friend to call him in the next few days to discuss funerals. When she was ill it transpired that she had been asking for him fondly by name, but it would seem the family felt it appropriate to deny her last wishes.

The funeral was a tense affair; he sat at the back with his partner. They had only met once but in typical fashion stories had abounded about what his Mother thought of her. His half brother made an effort, as did his step-Dad, sister in law and an old family friend Dave. The hole was filled and that was that.