Not everyone’s relationship with their
mother is straightforward and easy. Novelist Kate Kerrigan writes about
overcoming turbulent times.
“While I never lost touch with her, I
didn’t feel I could talk about my life”
Although as a child, my memories of my
mother are warm and loving, as soon as I hit my teens, we began to clash. From
the black eyeliner I insisted on wearing, to the non-regulation leg warmers I
wore with my school uniform and the boyfriend with a motorbike – it seemed that
everything I did was wrong.
These normal teenage grievances, however,
were made worse because my parents’ marriage became very turbulent at this
time. Everything was geared around “not upsetting your father” – so boyfriends
and make-up and discos all had to be kept secret. As the eldest of four, I felt
the responsibility of my parents’ marriage heavily on my shoulders. My own
difficulties in school seemed unimportant compared with the magnitude of my
mother’s problems, so I started to keep all of my troubles to myself.
This dynamic continued on into my twenties
until, finally, my parents divorced. Although I now had the opportunity to grow
closer to my mother again, I was so full of resentment over my “lost” years
that I didn’t want to.
Lucky customers on the day heard Kate
read from her new book ‘City of Hope’
While I never lost touch with my mother, I
didn’t feel I could talk to her about what was going on in my life. There was
no dramatic falling-out – just a sad coldness that developed over time. I did
my bit as a dutiful daughter, helped her look after my grandmother, looked out
of my younger siblings, drove her here and there – but I shared nothing of
myself with her.
Our turning point came when I was 30.
Unemployed, single and childless, I was staying in her house when the news came
that my youngest sister had become pregnant. I was furiously jealous. My mother
came into my room and found me howling, pounding the wall, shouting, “I should
have been me!”
Immediately, instinctively, she gathered me
into her arms and comforted me. In that moment, I felt completely nurtured and
understood. I realised that there was no other human being on earth who would
ever love me enough to sympathise with such ugly feelings. And crucially, I
also realised that I still needed her as a mother – and I told her that.
She cried and said, “I have been waiting
for you to come back to me”. I saw then the many times my mother had been there
for me – rushing over to Dublin when my boyfriend left me, and loaning me the
money to buy my first flat – that, in my anger, I had chosen to ignore. I knew
it was time to finally grow up, let go of the past and move forward.
So, I made a decision to form a new
relationship with this woman who had all this love towards me. From that moment
on, it was as if the intervening years never happened and we were the best
friends we had been when I was a child. Since then, I’ve shared almost every
big decision with her – even listening when she picked out the boyfriend she
thought I’d marry! “He’s the one”, she said, when she first met Niall, and she
was right.
I live near my mother now and write my
novels in her house every day. She is my muse and best friend and my closest
adviser. I know she is tortured by the past, but since becoming a mother, I
understand how difficult my mother’s life was back then and I am in awe of what
a wonderful job she did in rearing us.
I am so grateful that I was given the
opportunity to rebuild our relationship, and hope I will be as good a mother to
my adult sons as she is to me today.
Moira says
“I felt terribly aware that Kate was supporting me at times when I should have
been supporting her. I never felt we were estranged because my love for Kate
was always so strong, but I could see she was unhappy and I longed to be able
to help her. I am so grateful that life gave our friendship a second chance”
