I opened an envelope yesterday that shattered something I have held onto for over 30 years, a promise I made to my son. I sat here with tears flowing down my face and an anger like none I have felt for years. Yet again, my Mother has screwed up my life, and I haven’t even seen her for 15 years. That woman has spent her entire life either judging me by rules no one would understand, or by doing things that make no sense. I had asked Adam to fetch from the chest by the TV, all my papers, which have all been stored in one large brown envelope. It contains everything about me, from my birth certificate, my scattered qualifications, right through to my divorce papers from my first marriage. Amongst them, I knew there was an envelope that contained the deeds to my son, Jefferys’ grave. I needed all the details so that I could finalise my plans for my own funeral. When Jeffery died, my Mother bought the plot for us, as we quite simply couldn’t afford to, when she did, she handed the papers to me and said that it was in my name, for our future use. I had no reason to ever look at it from then, until now. In fact, the only time I gave any thought to it was when I got divorced. My ex and I discussed it and as my Mother had paid for it, and I intended to be buried in Aberdeen with Jeffery, unlike my ex who had no other connection to the city, and with our joint belief that the grave was in my name, no we didn’t open the envelope and read them, well I logically took the deeds with me. When I opened the envelope yesterday, I couldn’t believe my eyes, what I saw there wasn’t my name, but my ex-husbands. There it was in black and white, the end to my promise, and my choice.
It took me several minutes to compose myself and to start thinking logically about it all. There had to be an answer, and I simply had to think it through rather than react. I phoned Aberdeen City Council, the people who issue the deeds. They confirmed what I thought, either he has to sign them over to me, or if he won’t, them to give me permission to have my ashes interned there and a small stone erected. Either way, he has to sign one of two forms, which are in the post to me now. I haven’t spoken to my ex since I tracked him and my daughter, who he had taken without my permission to Auckland in New Zealand to live. Clearly, we aren’t on the best of terms. By chance, they are now both back here in the UK, through very different routes. Despite what he did to Teressa over the years, she chose a few years ago to rebuild their relationship. I have done the only thing I can, I have asked her to talk to her Dad and hopefully get the papers signed over to me. On one level, I can see no reason why he shouldn’t, but on an another, I fear he will simply demand that I send the deeds to him. He knows very well how to be mentally cruel and although Teressa seems positive about the outcome, I can’t be so sure.
It is amazing how one small action, so many years ago could have such an impact. The more I stopped and really thought about it, the more I realised that my Mother, although divorced herself, put his name on it, not out of any misplaced trust, more out of traditional values. One that said, he was my husband for life. When she did it, she couldn’t see what the truth of our relationship was, or how it would end. It just annoys me that once again, she is managing to tear away at my life. Since I married Adam, she more or less cut me out of her life. We had some contact by phone for a few years, then when I became ill, it slowly tailed off. When she became ill, my brother never even told me, it was after months of hearing nothing, that I eventually made contact with him, to hear she was in the hospital, about to moved to a care home. Despite promising to keep me in the loop, it took until this Christmas, 2 years on, for me to even find out where she is. Clearly, I am not wanted as part of anything now, any more than I have been for the bulk of my life. I am fed up of being seen as her “duty”, rather than her daughter.
So now my plans are in the hands of Teressa, it will be up to her skills of persuasion for me to be able to carry out what I always believed was a foregone conclusion. It just shows you how one tiny action, taken many years before, can screw up your future. Oddly, I remember when I left my first husband, my Mother actually asked me if I had the deeds in my possession. Surely, that would have been the perfect opportunity to tell me what she had done. Just having something in your possession, isn’t enough in the eyes of the law, it’s down to true ownership, not possession, despite the nine tenth theory.
I could really have done without all of this. I was feeling bad enough before I opened that damned envelope. It is yet more proof that stress isn’t something that does anyone any good. On the good side, I also opened another envelope yesterday, well rather Adam did. I now have in my possession, my DNR papers, and these papers, do have my name on then and are signed and ratified by my doctor. Just as the old one that I had, it has a time limit of five years. The only thing that the law change has brought about, as far as I can see, is a standardised form, and the fact that it doesn’t need an outside witness, and that the form stays with me. I don’t know if it is normal, but Adam has agreed with me that it might be an idea when I am next at the hospital for an appointment with one of my consultants, that we ask about it being added to my hospital records. I know it’s a belt and braces approach, but I really have no desire for anyone to be bouncing up and down on my chest, or having high voltage electricity coursing through me, I’d rather go peacefully.
I think I had been awake today for less than ten minutes when I was again aware of being exhausted. This morning was the first time ever, that I actually struggled to pull myself round enough, to be able to switch off the alarm clock. I have been struggling all day long. Today, the worst pain is in my lungs. I don’t know what is going on, or why they are so painful, but I am aware of every breath. To be fair, it’s more of a constant ache, rather than what most would call true pain. My diaphragm, though, well that’s another story. I am more than aware of what all my muscles can do, when under the control of my PRMS, they really don’t have to show off. I guess this afternoon will find me back in bed, not that it does much good, but somehow, it’s hard to fight the theory that going to bed, makes you feel better. Where did that stupid idea come from in the first place, probably something else I owe to my Mother. It’s amazing how what we are taught as kids, stays with us.
Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 06/02/2014 – A girls best friend
Two Rooms Plus Utilities 