The night mum died was both surreal and yet, perfectly expected. I’m not really sure that can make sense unless you’ve watched someone actually stop being, right there in front of you. It’s both terrifying and also an unbelievable privilege.
My mum died of cancer. It took hold of her suddenly, savagely and left us without her in our lives before we even had the chance to digest what was happening. We are not unique, she having cancer is not unique, cancer itself is not unique. But Betty Clarke herself was unique. And I’m only just starting to understand this now.
I focused so much on her illness back at the time that I rarely wrote about her as a person. I still don’t feel like I have asked enough questions, knew enough about her childhood beyond what I can piece together with her scarce voiced recollections and photos. I did though, know what she was like as a mother.
I don’t know exactly what happened in those 40 or so years before I was in her life and this is my biggest regret. I guess I always thought I had more time to request these details. What annoys me most about myself is that I am constantly telling anyone who will listen that “I just love to know people’s stories”, yet the one person who gave me the best chance at mine, I didn’t even bother to learn.
So here is a list of questions I wished I’d taken the time to ask.
1. Can I have the recipe?