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Mother, you had no Right

To die on me like that

By Bruce Curle `Published 9 months ago 4 min read
Photo Sechelt BC December 2021

Mother, you had no Right!

Mother, it would be your birthday coming up on the 19th day of September. You were born in 1933 in Liverpool, England. You lived through the Blitz in London, came to Canada and joined the Canadian Military. You raised children on your own and lived a hard life at times.

Dorothy Margaret Curle with son John and baby Warren. Photo property Warren Curle 2021

But last October, you left your only surviving child. You had been very ill for some time, but you also showed improvement. I rushed to be nearby, and you would rally, improve, and be back to the Dorothy Margaret Curle so many knew and loved. Several times I was alerted you might go at any moment.

Then all at once, you slumped and died on me. You had no right to do that, mother. I was going to come to see you that morning. I had heard over a dozen times you had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. I gave myself a day off to do other things. Just after six in the morning, I received the call. That morning I was coming, but you went and died before I could see you.

Dorothy Margaret Curle September 2021 by Warren Curle

You had no right to do this, mother. You had a son who needed to resolve issues over forty years old with you. You had two fantastic grandchildren that still needed to share more of your life experience.

I hope you liked the spot we found for you, a nice place with sunsets and sunrises, a public access point for all time. Your brother Peter was there with us as we gave your remains to the care of the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful day before the heavy snowfall and power outages.

By Will Echols on Unsplash

Your birthday is coming, and I will think of you, my dear mother. At times our relationship was very fragile and, at other times, very volatile. At times it was very tender and almost loving. We never talked about that Private Residential School you sent me to. We were always so "British" about such things. When I dropped my pants and pulled up my shirt, you saw the marks on my back, ass, and thighs, some of which would take forever to fade away. But we were very British about it, and you said I did not have to return but never spoke of it again.

Much occurred in 2021; I was in a severe auto accident on my way to see you while you were in Chilliwack's hospital. My head injury was a blessing because I cleaned out your apartment and found your secret files while you were in the hospital. Despite my pounding headaches and blurred vision, I began to understand some things about you. Why would you have reported the abuse to your son, one of your employers sexually used you for many years? Mother, I did the British thing and destroyed these records; your secrets are forever lost. I was surprised you cared so much for me, mother; you never said it to me in words. You tried to know where I was when I was getting lost in Europe. I wish you had told me this at least once. Maybe we would have found more peace if you had shared this with me.

Your illness, time in hospital, and eventually, the retirement home all weighed heavily on me. A head injury, your condition, and my brother's death in June made it difficult to discuss the past and find closure between us. The end of Helen, my mentor, friend and urban hero, in October added to the difficulty. I hoped, given a month or so, we could maybe close the St John's School of Alberta Chapter of our lives.

But you went and died on me just before the end of October. Worse still, that man who was my father died seven days later. I could not even find peace or closure with him either.

Mother, I will weep for a moment on your birthday for all we missed, left unsaid and the love we never knew how to express appropriately. I do love you, my mother and forgive you. I believe I am a good father, partially because I never wanted to be the man my father was or lose the connections I made with my mother. I remind my children I love them as much as I can. I let them know how proud I am of them and strive to be the best I can be for them.

Sleep in Peace Dorothy

Sunshine Coast British Columbia Canada 2021 by Warren Curle

Love your son

Warren Bruce


About the Creator

Bruce Curle `

A Fifty something male that enjoys writing short stories, scripts and poetry. I have had many different types of work over my lifetime and consider myself fairly open minded and able to speak on many topics.

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Comments (2)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarran9 months ago

    I'm so sorry for your loss. I can only imagine your devastation. Sending hugs and prayers your way

  • Sandra Tena Cole9 months ago

    My heart goes out to you!

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