It was not until I met Bun and we were “going together” that I started to visit Mum. Bun was amazed that I did not visit her. He immediately made arrangements for a visit. Naturally I was a little fearful. I had no idea what to expect.
We arrived at the hospital. It was a large, dismal stone building, like a medieval castle, with small windows. After being admitted to the waiting room we anticipated our meeting with my mother. I was trembling inside and apprehensive. Bun was supportive and loving. A hushed stillness, austerity and the sound of keys unlocking and locking doors, was my first impression. When I saw this little lady being brought towards me I KNEW instinctively that she was my mother. She looked like an older version of my sister Rae. All sorts of emotions surged through my heart and mind. I had not seen her since I was a little girl. It was an overwhelming experience. The mother I always longed for, the mother I had cried on my bed at night time for many years when I was young was standing before me. The feeling was indescribable.
Bun and I introduced ourselves. We all sat down in comfort to talk. Mum said she had believed I was dead, killed in the accident I had at Mosgiel Junction with Uncle Jack. She remarked that good health was hard to get. By her general conversation it seemed her mind was still in a past era. We did not stay long. I found the visit a great emotional strain.
We arrived at the hospital. It was a large, dismal stone building, like a medieval castle, with small windows. After being admitted to the waiting room we anticipated our meeting with my mother. I was trembling inside and apprehensive. Bun was supportive and loving. A hushed stillness, austerity and the sound of keys unlocking and locking doors, was my first impression. When I saw this little lady being brought towards me I KNEW instinctively that she was my mother. She looked like an older version of my sister Rae. All sorts of emotions surged through my heart and mind. I had not seen her since I was a little girl. It was an overwhelming experience. The mother I always longed for, the mother I had cried on my bed at night time for many years when I was young was standing before me. The feeling was indescribable.
Bun and I introduced ourselves. We all sat down in comfort to talk. Mum said she had believed I was dead, killed in the accident I had at Mosgiel Junction with Uncle Jack. She remarked that good health was hard to get. By her general conversation it seemed her mind was still in a past era. We did not stay long. I found the visit a great emotional strain.
Stories for my Grandchildren, Isobel Spence
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