Happy Birthday

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Today is my Mothers 85th birthday and she is still as fierce with her words as she was many years ago.

We had one of our pretty much usual determined conversations yesterday and by determined I really mean that Mother accuse’s, passes judgement and then dismisses any chance of a re-trial and all determined by her imagination.

AND BREATHE…

I know only too well how difficult it’s been for her over the past few lock down months, it’s been tough for everyone.

For as long as I can remember, my Mother has perfected playing the role of the victim.

It is always about her and how someone has mistreated her, misleading her, lying to her, not including her and so on.

It is such a shame because she is an incredibly strong lady, with unbelievable resilience, a great sense of humor (on a good day, well a very good day, that is) and can be the most loving Mother anyone could wish for.

There is a saying that we have said for many years about her and that is;

She will give you the shirt off of her back if she thought that it would help you.

And, there is a part of me that will tell you, its comes at a cost-a reminder of how much she has done for you, if it wasn’t for her… how she has been a “Dam good Mother” and the ultimate statement that I just have to write in capitals;

IF IT WASN’T FOR ME YOU WOULDN’T BE ALIVE

Um! What can I say accept;

Thanks Mum for my life.

I am so glad I survived, even though the odds were set against me.

Please don’t get me wrong I love my Mother so very much and on the other side of that statement, I have spent my life making up for, as she believes, loving my Father more.

So yesterday, I found myself at age 51 and 3/4 justifying my not spending time at friends houses and spending time at hers, when I’m supposedly isolating (keeping her safe) from her and others.

I’m not even sure what I just wrote made any sense (laughing out loud).

So I shall try again; that heated conversation came about because she read or saw something on Facebook, (yes Mother has face book and commonly refers to it as the Huddle, which is the name of the device she first had, in order to use the internet-argh!! My brain aches just trying to explain it) then made up a story in her head about what she thought she saw.

We often make up stories about situations that actually, we know nothing about or are the very least are missing the facts.

I wasn’t anywhere I wasn’t supposed to be.

When I called to say that I would like to make lunch for her today and we would have to sit in the garden due to social distancing, she went straight into the victim role and stated that I have been very distant over the past few months.

No mention of a Pandemic…

Mother also claimed that she knew that I had spent so much more time with other people than with her and yet, I am telling her that she has to sit in the garden-“Your own Mother!”

We are the product of our life experiences and they do not and will never define who we are and there is always room for change.

There is so much hurt, rejection, loss, frustration, bitterness, jealousy and pain that Mother still holds within her and no amount of my trying, desperately at times to lead her towards thinking differently about her life, is going to change that.

This is her journey and of course I am a huge part of that journey and my love for her is insurmountable.

Will I always feel frustrated when we rub each other up the wrong way… of course I will, because until I heal the part of me that is my Mother, she will always present to me the lessons that I need to learn.

Ultimately, we all want to be loved and my Mother is no different.

Happy birthday to you on this 10th day of June.

Patricia June Maltby Thompson Sinclair

May you find that acceptance within you that I believe you are searching for.

May you forgive yourself for the role that you didn’t play.

May you know, that we your children, love you and always will.

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Namaste

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019-20

Joy

A few months back a lady called Joy came into my life through blogging and although I have never met her, I regard her as my friend.

Our paths met because we have something in common-a family history that was devastated by WWII.

Joy is the author of Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II.

You can find her blog here at www.joynealkidney.com

It took some time for me to pick up Leora’s Letters and read it because I knew that the story would evoke some painful emotions within me which are attached to the loss of my Father and what he went through as a child in the same war.

Although he didn’t die, my family lost my Father when he was 7 years old and I don’t really think that he ever stood a chance of returning emotionally, from the atrocities that he experienced in the prison camp.

I can only ever imagine what kind of woman and Mother Leora was, from Joy’s description of her Grandmother and in particular the letter’s that she so lovingly wrote to her family and her five son’s.

My tears flowed generously as I read each letter and what a gift to the world this book is, to be able to have such a personal, historical insight of WWII that will always be available for people to read and for students to study in schools.

Thank you Leora, what a wonderful Mother you were and I am so sorry that you had to lose your beautiful boy’s, in order for others to live.

Thank you Joy for your wonderful book and the gift that you have given to me of love, connection and friendship.

Wisdom Quotes

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019-20

Growing Up

I am really missing my big kids today.

My son is 25 and lives in London which currently, is the epicenter for the virus spread in the UK.

My daughter is 21 and lives about ten minutes away which feels like a million miles right now.

I would love for us to be sitting around the dining table together, enjoying our Sunday roast, hearing them laugh and joke with there little sister.

As a teenager my Mother often said;

“Don’t try and grow up too fast because when you are an adult, you’ll wish you were a kid again.”

Do I miss being a kid? Yes, at times I do and if I could go back and rewrite our history, I would make it all so very different for my brothers and I.

And… I know I wouldn’t be who I am today without my childhood being as it was, but still, sometimes it just sucks!!!

What I miss most are the times when my big kids were little and we were altogether in one place.

My youngest is 12 and desperately misses her siblings. I found this note hidden in one of my note books from when she used to role play being a secretary.

Sometimes growing up can be hard especially for the child that feels left behind and of course as we all know, its a natural process.

I was that child too.

I am so very proud of these three beautiful humans, and feel blessed to call them my children. Yes, there are times when I wish I could go back to number 10, as number 10 was where we were all rooted together, it was our family home. I realise now, I wasn’t as grateful as I could have been for that house-our home.

I am gently reminded that it was just a house… the love of my family, the very soul of those memories will remain in my heart forever and that’s what counts most.

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019-20

Day 23 – Easter Sunday

The garden is full of welcomed guests and morning joy.

Birds are flitting here and there and primroses are on parade in their clusters, proudly showing off their beauty.

The sun in all its glory, dances with nature and warms this coming day with its offering of hope and rebirth.

Hope-a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.

Rebirth-a period of new life, growth, or activity, a revival.

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With a new beginning somewhere in the Universe there has to be an ending.

Its the Yin and Yang of life, the ebb and flow, the Karmic law.

Sadly, I heard on the radio yesterday of an 11 year old boy losing his life to the unseen and silent killer and an overwhelming ton of emotion hit me me like a steam train.

There is a place deep within me where I feel connected to this child and want to reach out to him, hold him and love him just a little bit more… to let him know that he is and always will be loved by millions of others around the world and that his life had meaning.

All lives have meaning.

We are all in this together.

Collectively, we feel the pain his family feels.

I will never know

your name

or see your

sweet face

and

can imagine you now

running freely

bounding with life-

With Grace

by your side

the part of you

that is me

will honor

you

always

and remember

that You lived.


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May you all have a wonderful day and know how important each and every one of you are . I am thankful for us being on this journey together.

Remember to choose your thoughts wisely.

Stay safe.

© Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019-20

The Unexpected Call

Another great day to be alive albeit a challenging one to say the very least.

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A message came through in the early hours of the morning only we didn’t hear phone ting.

My husband’s step father had a stroke at around midnight last night and was taken to hospital-the very place we all need to stay away from right now.

Totally unexpected and such a shock.

Thankfully, as far we know, 80% of his movement has returned which is brilliant and now I am more concerned about the week’s stay in hospital that is ahead of him.

He is 83.

We are unable to visit him.

We are unable to comfort my Mother in-law in person.

As a family, we must pull together, adjust and do things differently.

I am reminded of a well know Dr Wayne Dyer quote;

”If you change the way you look at things the things you look at change”

My Mother in-law acted with haste.

He was given the medication that he needed quickly.

He is alive.

For that… I am truly grateful.

Whatever life throws at you, there is always a choice in how you respond.

Wherever you are in your life right now, today, this very moment… know that you have real choice in how you respond to your current situation and to the world at large. If its all getting too much then change your channel, shift it up a notch, remember who you are and what role you play in this present moment.

Be grateful.

Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything

Maybe its about unbecoming everything that isn’t you

So you can be who you were meant to be

in the first place

Paulo Coelho

Sending love out to you all

Wherever you may be.

Whomever you are

It’s a new day.

©All Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019-20

Broken Man

It didn’t take much for my Father to find out where we were staying and I am surprised that he didn’t come to the house and smash the front door down.

He wasn’t the kind of man to follows rules and I think he had finally broken.

Going to school that Monday morning wasn’t really an option because of the severity of our situation and I remember quite distinctly, what I was given for breakfast;

Scrambled egg with ketchup.

“Go on eat it up, it’ll do you good to get something in your stomach and stop all that worrying, worrying won’t get you anywhere.”

Said the friend!

I had never tasted it before and I really didn’t like it-so I didn’t eat it.

The phone rang. It was my Father asking to speak to my Mother and that look upon her face returned… the one that she momentarily, had a reprieve from.

I can see clearly in my minds eye, her standing there holding the phone up to her ear. Words are coming out of her mouth and I can not hear what she is saying… but I do know that she denied his begging for us to go home.

He asked to speak to me and she handed the phone over and this time, was the very last time I heard his voice.

Hello darling, it’s me Dad.

Please come home I can’t live without you and Mum.

Please Shellie, please… it won’t happen again!

I’ll get help.

I don’t want to hurt you or Mum, she won’t listen to me just come home.

He was sobbing.

I was sobbing.

I didn’t know what to say, I had no words, just tears, uncontrollable tears, I could have drowned in them.

I couldn’t breathe… my father was pleading with me to come home and I could hear his desperation.

I could feel it…

His words were clear,

not slurred,

he was coherent,

he was present.

I told him that I was scared and sorry but I couldn’t come home.

There was silence-even though we were crying together and then he told me that he loved me and followed with, “I will always love you, you are my everything.”

He said he was sorry.

He hung up…

Ian Douglas Sinclair – Malaysia 1934
What a beautiful baby he was.
It could have all been so different.

 © All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019

20.10.1981

Today, grief washes over me like a vicious ocean.

I have been running from this sadness for so long now and have felt too paralysed to work on my writing this past week. Some days I just wander in my mind looking for a safe place to rest but seemingly, it’s proving more difficult

I have to keep writing through it.

On the anniversary of my fathers passing I desperately want to acknowledge him and give meaning to his life as no other person ever does.

Nobody… and I feel very sad about that.

Was he that insignificant? Did he really matter to anyone? Was his life that unimportant?

If you were to ask my brothers to tell you the date of their father’s death, they wouldn’t have a clue and my Mother always needs reminding.

The date goes unnoticed.

Most years I remember him in silence but this year I wrote a Facebook status which came completely out of the blue.

If there was a direct telephone line that could reach him now, I would choose to hear him speaking softly to me and listen carefully to the sound of his voice, savouring every moment. I would ask him how his day has been and tell him about mine. I would spend the time laughing with him and sharing the simple things I know he’d love to hear… and I’d love him just that little bit more.

We must never underestimate the power of un-resolved grief. Its a burden to carry for sure and one that is so heavy for me to this very day.

Even though I was very afraid of my father, my love for him is evident.

Our healing is unfolding

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019

A Beautiful Interruption

Born with the freedom to dream
your innocence was given

in natural gesture
and stolen by a devil’s hand


So damaged was that hand and oblivious
to the mighty force

that left trails
of significant wounds

An inner world so barren
a desolate place to be and
yet in that world no-one
could interrupt

and freedom could prevail
if only fleetingly

My brother and I.

 

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip 2019

Keep living until you are alive

The force that stormed through the door was untamed.

He was a mad man.

The man I loved unconditionally and yet feared unlike any other human being alive, arrived with the big black case in hand.

Remember the case?

I froze – engulfed in terror, my mother a couple of feet behind me and to be specific, she stood in the right hand corner at the back of the front room.

I was her shield.

Like it was okay?

The dog was going crazy, barking in a frenzy of confusion running in all directions. He was my father’s dog and very much loved.

The mad man – hair messed, face contorted, eyes wide with RAGE started bellowing at my mother and the only thing I remember is;

“I’m going to kill you.”

and he hurled the big black hard sided case with such force, across the room at Her and as she threw herself out of the way, her screams of begging and pleading went un-noticed by any person outside.

It was a near miss.

Smashing against the wall.

The dreadful volume of noise – shouting – screaming – crying – barking – it was utter chaos.

I can still hear the hysterical cries from her and the fury filled shouting from him – I began pleading with him, begging him to stop, telling him I was scared, using his love for me to try and persuade him to calm down;

“If you love me Dad then please, please stop!”

I was in my very own nightmare and needed help. I couldn’t get him to stop and physically I didn’t have the strength to hold on for much longer. The situation escalated as he kicked the dog out the way and started to push me back and walk in her direction so I threw my arms around him, hugging him, telling him I loved him, sobbing; my feet slipping on the carpet as I pushed back as much as I could.

I tried I really tried hard; I pushed back

and prayed frantically, with speed, in my head to a God that I believed was there.

He was there, wasn’t he?

Then something changed – slowly, he began to calm down and as I held on to him for dear life, he demanded to know where his drugs were. My mother told him as he prized my arms from around him and walked out of the room.

I prayed every day as a child.

For my father –

What is this love
this powerful force
This energy of love
Can strip the volatile naked
to reveal a truth
not often seen
Rage can hide behind love
and fear behind the rage
Fear is the truth
that rage will not speak
Love is the gentle dance
to heal a broken heart

©All Rights Reserved – The boy in the chip shop 2019