SADIE (4.2.45 – 21.4.01)
Sadie died at the age of fifty-six, nearly two years after a diagnosis of early-onset dementia. In her early forties she was diagnosed with SLE (systemic lupus erythematosus) and as a result had to take a (very) early retirement from her job as a care assistant in a local hospital – a job she had loved and had suited her gregarious personality well.
Sadie had two children: myself (Kim) born 24.10.63 and a son (Vincent) born 15.5.65. She had two grandchildren and one ‘on the way’: Nicole born 26.5.98; Thomas born 5.10.99 and
Sadie had a super personality and sense of humour and had become a great friend to me in the years prior to her death. She was a 'trendy' mum and was always ahead of the pop music game, making up tapes for me which impressed my friends at uni. Spandau Ballet and Adam and the Ants were a couple of the bands she loved in the 80s - she could do a good Adam Ant impression.
Sadie was a very generous person, especially with her time and energy and had many talents. My first novel endeavours to pay tribute to some of them.
Here are a few photos:
ballerina Sadie; school girl Sadie; my mum Sadie; Sadie (expecting Vince), with friend, Sylvia & sister, Heather (Sadie has six brothers - Jimmy, Harold, Eddie, Reggie, Colin & Adrian); Sadie in the seventies; finally, Sadie and I at Chapel Home Farm in Kirkcaldy (Scotland) - we loved the stuffed garlic mushrooms!
MOTHER’S DAY
They loom. The infinite anniversaries since she died,
my mother. Usurped by life and made senseless to it,
she faded quickly towards the end like
a long-distance runner collapsing across
the finishing line.
I had already lost her, mourning,
her departure not unexpected
but surprising all the same.
When she really went I felt calm –
a puppet on auto-pilot.
I was struck then as now, that
the worst part would be knowing
yes, I would never see her again.
And though my tears didn’t immediately flow
they would, in accumulation of each day
that we now spend apart to the power of love.
At some coordinated point salt water
will erode dam-blocked tear ducts
flooding my life with memories raw,
recent and un-erasable.
I will one day drown in everything that was her -
then, I will have completed my work
my ultimate tribute finally polished
shining, my thanks to my mother.
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