I thought I already talked about how I value my mum’s words here. But looking through my posts it seems not and so it must have been a thought whether to write this, or not here. Or it might have been that I mentioned this when commenting at another bloggers blog. I can’t remember. But I certainly cannot see anywhere where I have written it here on my blog, in the last 3 months.
Its also a difficult post for me to write. Given the situation now.
Anyway… I value mum’s words. I always have.
Mum writes poetry. Well used to. This has now stopped since she was sectioned last year and her writing now is squiggles of what looks like in the pattern of writing, or when words are formed, its scrambled, when I visit her at the care home.
Mum would always get me reading her poems after she had written them. But in the last few year’s, mum would get me reading them during her creation, as well as when she had finished for my opnions. Mum knew I wasn’t for poetry at that time. But reading hers was a different matter. Sometimes her poems would reflect God and so she would sometimes warn me prior. I would still read, but giving any further input than they were alright, I felt it wasn’t my place to do on those type of poems. But the other poems that were about anything else, I would, if mum wanted opinions. But I would like what I read and say they were alright, or good and anything else that I enjoyed about them.
Some of mum’s poems became humorous in the last few years
Some of my friends reading this blog, have read some of my mum’s poems and they have loved them too.
The care team that used to come to mum’s bungalow until she had to be sectioned would end up reading my mum’s poems. They enjoyed, but they were also fascinated in how she would be able to create these poems. Some poems, just like that. Spontaneous.
My mum’s creative side is definitely poems. But mum had one time sketched in a younger years, that one time she kept. There’s only one now that exists, that she did not throw away and that’s a sketch of her mum. The others she sketched were of some actors. One I remember being Adam West.
They were brilliant and I am not saying that cos she’s my mum. They were brilliant.
I take after mum for sketching. But sketching people I cannot do and its not my thing.
And I can’t do poems like my mum. (Although had written two I think, for a person I once loved. The only time I was inspired.)
Mum has also made beautiful handmade cards and got that much into it, that she made more than me. Mum stopped because of her hands. I gave her suggestions for alternate ways, to show she did not need to give up her hobby. But she did.
Now mum’s words are nearly gone, I value mum’s words even more and her poems.
But last year, before mum became sectioned, a particular notebook of poems that mum had written and had promised to me, she had sent to some nuns. I was speechless. All I could do was nod and smile, while inside I was breaking further. I was in tears when I left, to go to work. Mum always spoke of that when I would get this notebook, I could get them published if I wanted. When she wasn’t around. I said I would like to see them published, while you are alive.
Not long after mum became sectioned, a nun had written to my mum to thank her for the poem book and money. I am not going to say how much she gave to them here. But it was a lot and first I knew of this. Mum did not mention that part to me and it was the hugest amount of money she has given away, in her vulnerable state.
Not so long ago, I written to the nuns, asking for mum’s notebook of poems back. Explaining what has been going on with my mum and how she became sectioned not long after and so mum has never seen this letter of thanks from them. And why I would like mum’s poem book back and what the notebook looked like.
I thought I’d would have left this too late. But I learnt that I hadn’t, when receiving a reply back from one of the Sister’s.
It turns out mum sent 3 notebooks of poems and the money was still there, untouched. They were hoping to find a way to get in touch some way with mum, or next of kin in what to do. Mum had said in a letter that they could publish her poems. But they were not able to do anything with these books, or money, so they were glad to hear from me.
I replies back and said I was surprised to hear of 3 poem notebooks being sent because of not finding any in mum’s belongings, as I expected mum had thrown them away, as she said she would when rewriting into the notebook I was aware of and described to them. I also understood if they felt uncomfortable keeping the money now, knowing the circumstances, but I was just after her notebook of poems, so to hear there be more, even more the precious. But if they were to hand the money back, it would go in mum’s purse, because right now, until I become deputy, means mum doesn’t have any money.
I will be travelling down soon, to meet up with one Sister, on an arranged day to pick up the 3 notebooks of poems, as well as possibility, the money.
I am feeling emotional, knowing I will be holding my mum’s poems, soon.
© Elizabeth Fisher and My Wellbeing and Learning Journey.
Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to My Wellbeing and Learning Journey with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. (But Guest Posts that feature on my blog are not allowed at all to be duplicated, as that is their copyright.)