Requiem for the non-believer

I lost my faith one dog-damp afternoon in our mother’s sitting room, where her two-bar electric fire sizzled heat in the unfamiliar space of her leaving. On the sofa sat a man of religion taking notes, scratching empathy onto the blank pages of our mother’s life, his sacred scribblings setting out an order of service for her funeral. Psalm twenty-three; a reading from Corinthians 13; two favoured hymns; his own address about a life well-lived and dutiful to God. But the poem she had loved so much, denied.

She had found it in a book she’d read, when words had moulded shapes, like breath, around the contours of her mouth, their meanings sentient as any holy water tears. Listen to my footfall in your heart, it said, I am not gone but merely walk within you –a message redolent of all those Sunday sermons, steeped in Christian kindliness and understanding. Yet in that sitting room, it would not do to set a precedent, for even the departed faithful had to learn to play the rules. And so, I acquiesced and left the room, my apostasy finally complete.

Aunt Lily

Lily, my mum’s elder sister, and her husband, George, did not have any children of their own and my siblings and I, were essentially their ‘adopted’ offspring. When our own parents were not looking after us, then our aunt and uncle were, so we had the good fortune of having a kind and loving upbringing on many counts. After uncle George died, Lily lived alone in their small, two-up two-down house around the corner from mum for many years. To say that she lived a frugal life is an understatement and whatever spare money she had, was given freely to either charities or to the church; the latter playing a huge part in Lily’s life. When Alzheimer’s eventually took hold, she would not have been able to remain at home for so long had it not been for the unconditional and loving care she received from friends and church members. Eventually though, it was impossible for Lily to live on her own and that same decision my siblings and I had had to make about our mum, then had to be made about our aunt. The surprising thing about it all was her total acceptance of the situation, and never once thereafter did she rail against the upheaval that inevitably ensued.

Lily came to the same care home near me where mum had died a short time before and when I re-read the notes from the diaries we kept during that time, there are recurrent themes that arrive with regular consistency. Firstly, Lily was sustained by her unfaltering religious beliefs. She regularly told me that she wanted to die but that it would only happen when the Lord was ready to take her. Secondly, many of the diary entries involved mundane comments about the weather – rainy, cold, miserable, cloudy, wet … so rarely sunny, and each day crinkled into a kind of window box of mundanity. Thirdly, was the gradual loss of memory that was so easy to track through the reading of a memory book I had made for her. At first Lily could recognise herself in the photos, even when she was a little girl in a school photograph, but over time these recognitions disintegrated as the dementia strengthened its grip. The saddest times for me were when Lily asked where Maude was and I had to keep reminding her that mummy was dead.

Increasingly, my brother, sister, sister-in-law and I had to become Lily’s ‘voice’ and I cannot state strongly enough the importance of this. The care home had helpful and supportive staff, but there were times when issues arose that were not addressed nearly soon enough or that were, in part, side-lined. Thankfully, because we were able to visit Lily almost every day, we could keep on top of these things, but for anyone who lives far away from a relative, it would be well-nigh impossible to police, I imagine.

We could never quite convince Lily that her financial affairs had all been satisfactorily sorted out but she fretted constantly about whether she owed money to anyone when she didn’t.

At the end, my brother and I were with Lily when she (as she herself believed) reached the gates of heaven. It was what she had been praying for for a very long time and I was happy that those prayers had finally been answered.

As a footnote to this, I should add that there was one thing that took me by surprise regarding mum’s and Lily’s individual responses to being moved into a care home. Mum was always the more flexible and amenable of the two sisters, but it was she who found it much more difficult to accept her situation, while Lily, (who could sometimes be rather stubborn and blinkered in her general attitudes about the world), accepted her lot without a single word of protest.

Transcript of Lily’s hand-written article for the family archives

‘I remember, I remember the house where I was born’ on the 25th November 1919. It was and still is, a little cottage, then with a thatched roof, now slated, in the townland of Lisnabane in east Fermanagh. There was a garden in front, with a little path leading to the public road. The border along the path was tended to by my Mother and I especially recall a magnificent peony rose blooming there. Very little has changed, except fields have been made larger and the apple tree in the haggard (hay-yard) has disappeared. The Haggard was where the winter fodder for the animals was stacked – in those days, small farms did not have many sheds. The spring-water for drinking and cooking came from a well in the meadow across the road from the house, rain water from the roofs was collected in barrels for washing etc.

My elder brother Sam and I played about in the fields. My younger sister Maude, was too small to join in our exploits. We were not allowed to go into the ‘back fields’ near the ‘big river’ as it was dark and deep with whirlpools and had already claimed a life or two. Sam nearly managed to drown himself in the ‘small river’ but Father was at hand and rescued him in time.

Looking back, I can only recall the sunny days with the horse chestnuts in bloom along the lane – I am sure there were many cold, wintry days; days of hard work for my parents, keeping us and the animals well and healthy during the winter.

Coolrakelly School. Lily is the second left on the second row from front.

On the whole, we were a healthy family. Sam had to have his tonsils removed –this was done at home. I vaguely remember two DR’s arriving – I don’t think the operation took very long and Sam lived and enjoyed good health.

Various aunts, uncles, cousins and neighbours visited us. We went to school along with the other children in the district to Coolrakelly P.E. School – a twoteacher school. It has now been replaced by a modern bungalow.

On Sundays we went to Sunday School and then church in the afternoon to Tattykeeran Church of Ireland. Sadie or Essie Fleming played the organ and Father sang in the choir. There were a lot of rhododendron bushes around the church. We were usually there early and could play in the shrubbery until Andy Fleming called us to Sunday School. Clothes often suffered in our play and we got into trouble, for clothing was hard to come by in those days. Fortunately, my Mother was skilful with her sewing machine and knitting needles, so we were turned out fairly well on Sundays.

There were few motorcars on our roads in the early 1920s. Horse trap, cart or bicycle were the main means of transport. I can remember running along the road at Lisnabane to meet my Mother returning from shopping in Fivemiletown with her bicycle laden. She had a little brown velvet coat for me made by a dressmaking aunt of my Father’s. That must be at least 65 years ago and I still have the brown button from that coat.

The farm at Lisnabane was small, not much outlet for grazing cattle, so we moved in January 1929 to Drumacken – a different type of landscape, near hills and heather. All our ‘flitting’ had to be transported by horse and cart. Kind neighbours from our old home helped with the removal.

We soon settled into our new home, welcomed by the near neighbours. I think they were glad to have a family living on the farm which had been vacant for some time.

As well as moving our household and yard belongings, the cattle had to be driven some ten miles but that was not unusual, for drovers and cattle walked long distances to ‘fair’, as there were few cattle lorries.

My brother Billy was born on February 1st of that year. Three of us started school at Emaroo P.E.S. in January 1929. Billy joined us later when he was old enough. We had kind teachers who did their best to give us an education. Some of us enjoyed school, while others were just waiting until they could leave at fourteen. I always liked reading, especially travel books and history – at home we had many books which my Mother had inherited. Our teacher, Mrs Carrothers, encouraged us to read, and arranged with the county library for books for borrowing to be supplied to the school. Most of my education has come from reading.

We had a happy childhood. We had little of this world’s goods. We did not have bicycles until we earned the price of them. Any treat that came our way was appreciated. When we were old enough, we cycled to Clogher to visit our cousins and they, in turn, came to see us.

There was not much time to get into mischief as we were kept very busy after school hours and on Saturday. In the spring, potatoes, turnips, carrots etc had to be planted, also oats and wheat. Potatoes were dug with a spade, spread, clamped and then drawn home.

If it was a wet season we were often fearful that we would not have a fire in the winter. But God was always good to us, and along with the hay crop, we always managed to survive, although there was much hardship and hard work. Then came the cutting of the corn and the digging of the potatoes, and if the potatoes had been planted in the ‘big field’ the drills seemed long and endless. Gathering potatoes was a task that we children did not like as they had to be graded as we gathered, large for the table and for seed, small to be boiled for the pigs and fowl. If we had a good crop, we were able to sell some. Morton had a name for good potatoes. We always hoped to have these chores done before Hallow-eve. Nuts, apples etc and Mother made apple dumpling. Friends often joined us.

Our yard and barn were supposed to be haunted – an early occupier had died there, though this never worried us. The only occurrence I can recall was when a fox got in and the hens made a fearful noise but when investigated, the fox had gone.

Drumacken was a lovely part of the country, especially when the whin was in bloom. It was very hilly – two steep hills led up to the house passing our neighbour, Cashel, on the way. They were lovely to ride down but hard to push up.

After church on Sundays, we were free to enjoy ourselves. We walked the local field tracks and through meadows, climbed Killycullagh and Brougher mountains. On top of Brougher now, stands TV masts. In those days we had never heard of TV. We did not have a radio. When we visited our Clougher cousins, we had a chance to climb up Knockmany Hill. The local Fermanagh paper, ‘The Impartial Reporter’ gave us our weekly news. If one of us had been in Tempo village, we brought home a Daily Paper. The outside news did not bother us very much but I did listen to the older folk talking and knew that there was much depression in the country. I remember hearing of the ‘Wall Street’ crash in America.

Money was very scarce. The creameries paid very little for milk – about two and a half old pence for a gallon. You had to pay for having milk collected. I did hear of one poor man who had so little milk in his churn each day, that at the end of the month he owed the creamery more for collecting than he got for his milk.

We were brought up to be useful. Apart from the work around the home, my sister and I learned from our Mother how to make our clothes etc while my brothers learned farm husbandry. My sister, Maude, brother Billy, and myself, left home after leaving school to earn our own living. Sam stayed on the farm. He ploughed, sowed, reaped and mowed for some years. He was always handy with his hands and was a very good farrier. Wet days were always busy days at the forge when the farmers brought their horses and donkeys to be shod. It was a great place for gossip – lies and truth. The forge was beside the river which suited Sam well, as from a small boy he was mad about fishing. He gave us many anxious moments when he did not return when expected and we feared that he was in the river.

As a family, we have all happy memories of our childhood at Drumacken. Of course, there were disappointments and sorrows. One good thing was that we had very helpful friends and neighbours who rallied round in our times of need.

I was very happy to go back with my nephew, George Acheson and his little son Graeme, some years ago to visit Lisnabane and Drumacken. It was high summer. Both places were looking as lovely and as peaceful as ever. The little river by the forge was clear and unpolluted. Long may it remain that way.

L. Brown Feb.1991

Lily’s ‘Memory Book’

created to jog her memory

This is a memory book compiled for me by my niece, Lynda, in July 2011. At the time, I am ninety-one years of age and am living in a Care Home in Lisburn.

My aunt reads her ‘Memory Book’ and although she seems not to remember the names of the people in the photographs, she is able to refer to the inserts which jog her memory, if only for a few seconds.

Lily says, “Mother was always a housewife, looking after the children, baking, cleaning and farmwork with the animals. She was quite strict but very kindly. She enjoyed crochet and knitting, and fine lace work.

We ate potatoes boiled in their jackets with bacon and chicken. Semolina or farola for afters. Mother passed on her craft skills to Maude and me. Mother had lovely brown, curly hair and hazel eyes. If she was alive today, she would look like Lynda.”

The well-used notebooks that recorded Lily’s stay in the care home.

Various diary entries taken from Lily’s visitor notebooks from 29th February 2012 – 22nd January 2015. Although Lily was visited by a family member almost every day, only selected diary notes have been mentioned here.

2012

29/2/2012: No false teeth today but had a good chat with Lily. She’s looking well.

28/3/2012: Lynda called in during the morning. Lily very, very tired and wishing to be in heaven with uncle George. Lovely day outside – a pity I can’t take her out, but she’s too tired.

13/4/2012: Lynda called and had a ‘conversation’ in the office regarding the ‘Tena’ pants. Lynda is frustrated☹about this and hopes it’s put right soon.��

3/5/2012: Lily somewhat ‘chesty’ today – keep an eye on this, although Lily still seems to be in good enough spirts. She was hungry, so I gave her one of Jean’s shortbread biscuits and a glass of milk. Spoke to nurse S who hears a little crackle in Lily’s lung and will phone the doctor now to get antibiotic.��

5/5/2012: Lynda called after playing squash. Lily very weary today – maybe the antibiotic is having that effect but she shows no interest in anything. I noticed that part of her front tooth is missing (the reason why she’s lisping?) but will talk to George about it. As long as Lily is in no pain it’s perhaps better that there’s no dental intervention.

6/5/2012: Barbara and George called in the afternoon. Lily in good form. Yes, Lily has lost a tooth. We spoke to her about this and it is causing her no pain, so she doesn’t want anything done to it. She has promised me that if it starts to hurt, she will let us know. I spoke with L – she feels that we should leave Lily’s tooth as it is, unless Lily complains.

17/5/2012: Lynda called after a full day at school. A terrible miserable day outside but Lily is in good enough form. She’s been looking through her old photograph album. Gave her a biscuit and some milk. Lily told me today, ‘memories live longer than dreams.’

28/6/2012: I went into the loo to get water for the plants - * I need to talk to you about this, George. I spoke with S and B – B cleared things up and was going to give Lily a shower after I left – she’s really good. Lily was very cross with me for saying that she needed a shower!!

23/6/2012: There is still no mat in Lily’s room. I reported it again (3rd time!) and now I’m told that nothing can be done until Monday when maintenance is back.☹

25/6/2012: Still no mat in Lily’s room – I will ask again (4th time) and also there’s been no feedback about incident last Monday. Things slipping?

26/6/2012: Jean here. Lily is looking well today in her purple outfit. At least it’s not raining at the moment and the sun even came out for about a minute! Lily also likes the M&S chocolates that I brought along – I think they will disappear soon.

Lynda here – Lily got a mat – yippee! (The persistence paid off.)

9/7/2012: I had a great conversation with Lily this morning about the photos in her scrapbook. She was able to tell me the names of a few people and I think her memory is slightly better these days. Certainly, she seems to be in good form, although the days must seem very long.

11/7/2012: Lynda in to do a bit of singing in the dining room for the residents but Lily didn’t want to come and I won’t force her. Mummy was always the one who liked my singing.��