Debs Daily Deliberations 208

6 minute read time.

Tuesday started badly the kids were just 'orrible this morning. Lara couldn't find her wind turbines and was accusing everyone under the sun of going into her room and moving/hiding them.....this progresses into pushing and shoving between the kids and finally Mum yelling at them to flipping stop! All three left late but hopefully still managed to make it to school on time. I had a cup of tea and nosied around Facebook and here and decided I needed a nice relaxing bubble bath. Just as I was about to get in the phone rang....."is this Debbie?"....."yes, hello"......"this is Maggie, Andrew's wife" (now who the heck is Andrew?!?!) then it hit me....my biological uncle......I knew what was coming next "I am sorry to have to tell you but Betty died on Sunday".....my heart sank. I climbed into my bubble bath and cried for a while and you guys can think of this blog as my version of a Dallas shower scene, normal service will be resumed tomorrow. Todays photographic intermissions are orchids.

Its 1966 and Patricia aged 21 meets and falls in love with David aged 19, they accidently make a baby (me) and in November they get married. Now it still wasn't the done thing even back then to have a child out of wedlock but even so my Grandad Ted stopped the car on the way to the registry office and asked his daughter if she really wanted to do this, they had no problem with her staying at home and they would help bring up the baby.....but no my Mum insisted. Flash forward to 3rd July 1967 and Deborah Karen entered the world around 6.45pm weighing 6lb 5oz. Patricia had become a Mum and a battered wife.

Two years later Sharon Patricia was born with cerebral palsy and Patricia was a mother of two and still a battered wife...but finally she saw sense and left David. She became in involved with a man who was going through a messy divorce and two years later Diane Catherine was born and the relationship ended when Patricia refused to help her partner gain full custody of his kids from his wife.

So it was just us girls for another two years when Peter Clarke, gentle bus driver entered the scene. He thought children didn't like him and always came armed with a huge tin of Quality Street, Debbie, Sharon & Diane thought he was fabulous as they argued over their favourite sweet. When Debbie was 6 years old Patricia and Peter married and not long after Patricia had a hysterectomy caused by all the beatings she had taken. She was so upset that she would not be able to give Peter a child of his own. Debbie had gone into Primary school and told her teacher she was no longer called Smith but now a Clarke, the school phoned home and Pat & Pete explained the situation, the school said if Debbie wants to be a Clarke, then Clarke she will be.

So, Peter adopted all three girls in 1972 and we became the Clarke family. At this point all of David's family took a step back and let us get on with our lives. So it continued until Debbie was living with Tony and got engaged. Debbie decided she wanted her biological grandparents at her wedding and after asking Peter and Pat what they thought, she got in touch. They visited Debbie's tiny flat in North Weald and it was like we'd never been apart and Debbie was startled at the family resemblence. Pat had NEVER badmouthed David over the years but Debbie had witness first hand some of the beatings and hated him with a passion and always said she wouldn't know him anyway and he'd never recognise her.....but Pat had always assured her she was her fathers daughter - in looks anyway, not the drunken partner beating way.

The wedding came and Debbie's dad Peter gave her away and drove the newly weds to Gatwick the following day to catch their plane to Egypt. I have to interject and say I really believe in nurture over nature, I am much closer to my Dad Peter than my mum. It was my Dad that picked me up from school after one of my many accidents, who spent hours in A&E over the years when I crushed fingers, fell off swings etc etc. It was my Dad I cried on leaving mascara all over his uniform when I miscarried my first child, its my Dad I turn to if I had a problem.....get my drift!

So Debbie kept in touch with phonecalls and cards with her grandparents Sid & Betty. After Lara was born they visited Debbie & Tony at their new house and were delighted to play with their three great-grandchildren and I am so glad, because the following year Grandad Sid died suddenly after going fishing with David of a heart attack. Now this brought a new problem for Debbie ...... the funeral. She knew David had remarried and had two boys of his own but she had not seen him since she was 6 years old and really wasn't keen to do so again. She no longer hated him, she just felt nothing.

The day of the funeral arrived and she was fine until sat in the car at Chelmsford Crematorium she saw her 'family' arrive. She burst into tears and said to Tony "I don't think I can do this", she shook uncontrollably and Tony reminded her she was here for Sid and Betty and no-one else. Holding Tony's hand tightly she made her way to the waiting area. They stood back a bit, lost when a lady walked over and said "hello Debbie, you must be Tony, I am Maggie, your uncle Andrew's wife, I recognise you from the wedding photo Betty has on the side". We say hello and my uncle Andrew comes over and gives me a kiss and a tight squeeze before my Nan comes over and holds me tightly. At this point a man wanders over and shakes both my hand and Tony's and says "thank you for coming"...."you're welcome" I reply to my biological father.

Suddenly he didn't look so scary, he is over six feet tall and I guess to a small child that is gigantic, he was mean looking and tattoo'd but now I just saw a sad middle aged man. I kept my distance and when the ceremony was over, we left. Life continued with phonecalls to Betty who had been so in love with Sid that she didn't ever come to terms with losing him. She existed after his death but never really lived. Debbie's guilt lies in the fact the last time she spoke to her grandmother was summer 2008, she was so depressed and really struggling with her arthritus so come Christmas and Debbie is told she has a brain tumour, she couldn't face ringing her Grandmother and informing her that her eldest grandchild has brain cancer and may not have that many years ahead of her. So she put it off and put it off, but lately she is thinking that it will be so good to ring Nan and tell her the awful news but explain how well she came through surgery and that the treatment was over for now.........but she never got to make that call.

Peace be the journey Bettina Smith, you are back with your beloved Sid.


Thought for today:
If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.
Mercedes Lackey

Anonymous
  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Amazing story and so well written. I don't find it sad - it is a snapshot of life and shows that spite of all that life throws at us we can still win through.I don't think you need have any regrets about not telling your gra about Buttercup. My oldest son has chosen to estrange himself and his family because basically he got drunk and attacked one of his brothers. I keep telling him life is too short - not especially for me but he should make his peace with Irene. Well done, Debs - good day? Bad day? No day? As long  is it's not no day who cares.

    Keep smiling

    love

    Drew

    X

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Just want to say a very touching blog, very open and honest so thankyou for sharing.

    I agree it was probably best not to have told her. My nan has found it extremely difficult since my diagnosis. She has told me she cant visit me as she finds it too hard and that she is sorry etc. In one way I am glad for her honesty but on the other it makes our relationship difficult. I know its because she feels it should be her, not me, she is 'old and has had her life'. Bless her though she did come round on our anniversary this year which must have been a huge thing...only to find me hysterical after having my reconstruction cancelled again and getting my secondary diagnosis. I havent seen her since!

    x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    What a beautiful blog, I can see where you get your determination and spirit from Deb's, you should seriously think about writing a book you have a real gift for it.

    Thinking of you and your family, take care love Terri xxx

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Thanks for the comments people, I don't feel guilty about not telling my Nan about me.......just that I hadn't phoned her at all.

    It did feel good typing it up.....my life in a page LOL

    Off to finish cooking the roast dinner we didn't have on Sunday x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Sorry to hear about your Nan Debs. Don't beat yourself up for not ringing her. I had a similar situation when my brother was in hospital with pancreatic cancer. All my family live in Cardiff and as you know I live in North Wales. Everyone met up one weekend and I was unable to go, can't remember the reason why. Anyway they were all going to a pub to have Sunday lunch when my mum said she thought they should leave a little earlier and go and see my brother for a few minutes before the lunch. When they arrived at the hospital it was evident that he was not going to make the rest of the day so they all stayed with him until he passed away later that afternoon. It is the biggest regret of my life that I wasn't there for him, I was the only member of the family not there with him. It's something that's played on my mind ever since. Another very sad thing about my brother was that he had divorced his wife about 6 years before his diagnosis. The divorce had made the relationship between him and his son extremely strained and his son basically cut off all contact with my brother. He did get to know about my brother's diagnosis but still didn't make contact. Sadly my brother only lived 4 months after his diagnosis and died on Fathers Day. When the family all returned to my brother and sister-in-laws house (he married his first love from when he was 18) there was a knock on the door. Standing on the doorstep was my nephew and his fiance with a Fathers Day card for my brother. Can you imagine how he felt when told that his dad had died just an hour earlier. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but unfortunately we just don't know what's round the corner.

    Angela x