Mum

Helen Kandler died on January 13, 2022 at 8:35 am. (Today as I type this bit.) She was 82, and had suffered with Alzheimer's/ dementia. She was my mother.

Mum was born in Ayr, Scotland in October 1939. She once told me that one her earliest memories was her mother hiding with her under a desk as the Germans bombed the munitions plant nearby. She never liked sirens or loud noises her whole life. Mum was the middle child of three, and she also had a half-brother. Her father was Irish, and her mum was Scottish- Clan Macintosh, of which she was very proud, and passed that pride to me. Of her family, only her older brother survives her.

Mum in Scotland, 1972

She met my father some time in the early 60s while dad was stationed in Germany. They married in January 1964, and were married for almost 58 years. As a gift to dad for their 25th wedding anniversary, mum became a citizen of the US. I helped her study the voluminous amount that she needed to master to pass a citizenship test. (A test I think few in the GQP could pass.) She last saw her native soil in 1972, when she brought my brother and I over to meet our grandparents.  

Mum is survived by my dad, my brother and his wife, me and my Wife, and 2 grandchildren.  

All of those are the facts.  And the fact is I said my goodbye to her a couple of months ago while she was still cognizant.  

Right now, I feel numb.  I should feel more- after all, she was my mother.  She accepted me as Sophie.

When I dressed as a teen, there was only one thing of mums that I would wear- a gold necklace with a heart charm, inside of which is a picture of grandmum and a tiny seed: thistle from Scotland.  I wore it often.  When I stopped dressing in 1983, was the last time I wore it.

The Locket

My father told me to help myself to her jewelry.  Mum wore a lot of costume jewelry, but she had some real stuff as well.  She favored opals, rubies, and diamonds.  I immediately decided that I must only take half of the good stuff, as it wouldn’t be fair to my brother’s wife (or their daughter) for me to take it all.  It’s strange, I felt almost guided to check little containers away from the jewel boxes- tiny boxes and decorative jars (mum had a LOT of them), and that’s where I found her diamond rings- all gifts from my dad.  

While I was looking, dad entered the room, and I asked him if her could identify her engagement ring.  He quickly pointed one out- and I kept it.  Someday, I will give it to my daughter for her wedding (assuming I’m around.)  Then again, all of what I took will someday be hers.  

Mum meeting her daughter for the first time: Feb 2014.

I thought I’d finished, when I felt the urge to check under one of the mahogany jewel boxes (gifts from her father).  There I found two bags, one a pink silk bag and the other blue and velvet like.  In the pink one, I found a string of tiny pearls.  In the blue one was the gold heart locket.  I kept both.  I left half of the valuable items for my brother's wife, as it wouldn't be fair if I took them all.  After all, they have a daughter as well, and she deserves some of her grandmother's legacy.

Believe what you will, but I think mum wanted me to find these items and keep them.  That's not all.  Earlier in the day, my dad and older brother were both outside, leaving me alone in the house.  I decided to speak to her, and told her that I'd try to make her proud.  I then went into a room that used to be where her massage business was conducted, now empty.  The room smelled like her.  She hadn't been in it since at least July, but it smelled like her.  I felt she was there.  A few other times during the day, I felt her presence as well.  Dad's dog also saw her.  He'd look at parts of a room where no one was standing and wag his tail.  She was there- I know it.  

The day ended with a grueling five hour drive back to State College.  During that time, mum was cremated.  I was tired, and my back hurt.

Now her pain is over.  My dad is alone in the house he shared with her.  I'm back in State College while the snow falls outside.  I have homework I should be doing.  The world continues going as it will after I'm gone as well.  I've received many kind messages over the past days from friends and well wishers, and I appreciate them all.  

I'm relieved in a way.  I'd waited for months for the phone call I received Thursday, and now it's done.  Mum was stubborn to the end, and, in the end, she died alone, as no one was in the room.  That was her way when I think about it- she didn't want a big fuss.  

Dad will get her ashes tomorrow.  They will be divided in two boxes: 2/3 and 1/3.  I will take the 1/3 and send it over to my cousin in Scotland.  There, my Uncle will scatter them on the same ground with her parents and sister.  At least part of her will be home.  

A Family History of War

My Uncle John (Mum's older brother) called from Scotland tonight- past midnight his time.  He wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas, and said he preferred calls to cards.  So, I put aside the paper I'm writing for class, and listened.

With my Uncle in Scotland, May 2018.

Among other things, he told me a story about my family I'd never heard.  His mother: my maternal grandmother, came from a large family: four brothers, four sisters, and she was the youngest.

At the outbreak of World War One (1914), all four brothers signed up for the army, a couple of them lying about their age to get accepted.  My great grandfather (GGF) also enlisted, saying he was much younger than he really was.  The recruiter thought that they were all brothers, and so they all went into the army.  (Probably in the same regiment as was the British custom of the time.  I don't know which regiment.)

GGF became a drill instructor, so he never went to France, but all four brothers went.  All four made it home as well, but "Not all in one bit."  All were wounded in some way.

"Uncle Walter" lost a leg going over the top when his kilt caught in the wire and he fell face first, his legs in the air.  The Germans shot one off.  Another brother was on a listening post one hot summer night.  This meant he was forward of the lines, and he had to be very still and quiet, lest he be spotted and shot by a sniper.  (I filled in some of my own knowledge here- Uncle John just said he was “ahead of the lines keeping a watch.”)  If the Germans attacked, he was to send up a warning (a flare or something.)  In any case, he had a "sweet" in the chest pocket of his uniform, and as the night went on, he really wanted it.

Scottish Uniforms of World War 1

Source:  http://miniaturasmilitaresalfonscanovas.blogspot.com/2011/12/la-primera-guerra-mundial-la-gran.html

So, very slowly, he moved his hand toward the pocket.  He reached the pocket, opened it... and a sniper shot his fingers off.  (He said that this was at a place he pronounced "Kee-kinola."  I don't know where that is, as I'm sure the spelling is far different from the pronunciation.)  

Another brother also lost his fingers, but I wasn't told how.  I don't know how the fourth brother was wounded.  

In any case, his point was this- Uncle Walter, who lost a leg, used to tell him that "our family is blessed."  After all, the whole family came home from that war when 134,712 Scottish men and women didn't.   And that was the moral of the story.  My Uncle is 81 and has a lot of health problems, but he still considers himself blessed as he's had a long life.  

We were on the phone for 45 minutes, him doing most of the talking and me listening.  He is quite a story teller, and I enjoyed listening to his stories.  

Sometimes, it's best to just listen, especially when someone who has lived a long time wants to tell some stories of days long before mine.  

Be well.

UPDATE:  The family lived in Ayr, so that's where the brothers enlisted.  The surname, as expected was Macintosh.