Page 52 of For One Moment With You
But thus had it always been and I took it all on, not even once stopping to question it.
* * *
The same way my mum had, too, suddenly I’m realising, as I find another missing piece of the jigsaw of my life.It’s come from her. It explains why my dad was so lost without her.
Now, it’s obvious my mum had an impact on my life. Our mothers are our constants through our most formative years. Our emotional support as years go by – if you’re lucky, that is. And Lizzie and I struck gold, I’ve always thought. But we’re all human; even mothers have their baggage. Added to that, they can pass it on. And in my case, I’ve taken on the way my mum always had, of giving, to the extent it was at a cost to herself. Of not living true to herself, but to my father’s ways. I’ve known this for a long time. I just haven’t appreciated the impact it’s had. And that’s it, in a nutshell, one that as I crack it, a veritable kaleidoscope of realisations explode out. You see, obvious though it is, I am not my mum. I do not have to always please everyone else. They are their own people; they are more than able to look out for themselves.
The boys are different; we never stop being parents. Nor do I want to. But even with them, it’s high time Tilly the hub let go of the strings. Let everyone fly away. Started thinking about what’s right for myself.
But, back then, when my mum was ill, I hadn’t realised any of that.
As the days and weeks passed, I watched my mum battle her illness – bravely, with her trademark brightness, as not once did she let her mask slip.
‘It’s a little bit uncomfortable,’ she said now and then. ‘But all in all, I’m very lucky.’
That’s how I choose to remember that time. One when our family became more closely knit than ever; one where I’d never been more aware of life’s bittersweetness, the joy of my little sister getting married, contrasting with the reality of my mum’s illness.
* * *
While my mum said little, I had my suspicions about where this was going. But it wasn’t until shortly before Lizzie’s wedding that they were confirmed when she shared her prognosis with me, that at worst she had weeks, at best a few months.
‘I’m so sorry, Mum.’ Tears poured down my face. ‘This is crap.’
‘It is.’ Mum’s voice wobbled. ‘But I’ve been so lucky. I’ve had a wonderful life – and it’s not over yet.’
I took one of my mum’s hands. ‘We should tell Lizzie.’
She shook her head. ‘Please, Tilly. Not yet. I’ll talk to her after her wedding.’
‘She’d want to know, Mum,’ I said gently.
‘I know. And she will. Just let her have this time.’ My mum smiled too brightly.
If Lizzie had guessed, she didn’t say. Despite the obvious sadness I felt, it wasn’t lost on me that given how sick our mum was, we were lucky she was still with us. We made the most of those days, aware that time was no longer open ended.
The boys’ final term of college came to an end and the celebrations started. Then a week later, we all gathered for Lizzie and Rick’s wedding in the breathtaking gardens of a barn that had been converted into a wedding venue. It was a lot less grand than where Gareth and I held our reception, but from start to finish, it was a beautiful day in every respect. The sun shone, the bride looked stunning, while Rick just walked around looking dazed, presumably because he couldn’t believe Lizzie had agreed to be his wife.
It was bittersweet, yet still the happiest day. It was also one that affirmed what family was really about. What love was about, too. A day during which Gareth was oddly silent.
Having returned to the fold, the boys had remained unaware of the real reason for his absence, a fact that I was oddly proud of, despite the emotional turmoil I’d been through. I should also point out that my parents also were unaware of the whole shebang, completely buying my explanation that Gareth’s absence had been work related. For Christ’s sake, they even congratulated him. Yes, so ridiculous, you couldn’t make it up. And with my mum so ill, it was hardly the time to enlighten them.
Anyway, back to the wedding and Gareth looking somewhat perplexed. ‘They really love each other, don’t they?’ His eyes rested on Lizzie and Rick.
I shrugged. ‘That’s generally the case when people get married.’ I didn’t want him reflecting on us, putting a downer on today. ‘Not all marriages are the same, Gareth.’ I paused. Then I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Honestly, when you think back, we probably shouldn’t have gone through with it.’
He looked at me, startled. ‘Why are you saying that now?’
‘Because we’re talking about it now,’ I said. ‘It’s no secret you didn’t want children – and if we’d talked about it honestly, it would have been a dealbreaker,’ I said quickly as he opened his mouth to interrupt. ‘I’m not blaming you. I knew you were reluctant. I just didn’t realise the extent of your reluctance.’ But more to the point, I hadn’t wanted to. ‘I still don’t know why we were so afraid to be honest with each other.’
‘You really think it was a mistake?’ He looked gobsmacked.
‘In some ways.’ I shrugged. ‘I think you do, too. What else was your affair about? We don’t have sex. We don’t talk about anything important.’
He set his jaw. ‘We’re talking now.’
I nodded sadly. ‘But only about what’s gone wrong between us.’ I added more kindly. I changed the subject. ‘Look at the boys. Wonderful, aren’t they?’ I watched them – tall and handsome, sun kissed, and more than any of those things, so filled with kindness that I could feel my heart bursting with pride. ‘I’d say, on balance, we’ve done OK.’
For a moment, Gareth didn’t say anything. He poured himself another glass of champagne, then looked at me. ‘Do you want a divorce?’
