‘I kept torturing myself that her death was all my fault’
Davina Andrews, 60, a retired teacher lives in Grays, essex, with husband robert, 61, a contract manager. Their eldest daughter, charlotte, 37, died this year, and they have two other daughters, aged 35 and 32. MY MUM, eunice, died of an asthma attack when I was nine. I’ve attached myself to a series of ‘surrogate mothers’ ever since: from a kindly nun at school through to my wonderful mother-in-law.
My parents were a love match. I was an only child — they’d been married ten years before I turned up.
Mum died on her 39th birthday in December 1965. She had gone outside to get some air and on coming in from the cold, fell into Dad’s arms.
The first I knew of it was waking the following morning and instead of Mum coming into my room, there was my dad and uncle. ‘Where’s Mum?’ I asked. ‘She’s dead,’ came the reply. Dad walked out and my uncle said: ‘Don’t cry and upset your dad.’ So I hid my feelings. I cried privately, never in front of anyone. I wasn’t even allowed to attend the funeral. Dad was so distraught, he didn’t remove the Christmas decorations until August. I knew Mum had been warned not to have children because of her asthma, so I tortured myself that it was my fault she died. Dad was never around — he’d drop me at the neighbours at 7am so he could go to work, then collect me from my convent school at 7pm. Within a year he’d employed a housekeeper, a German lady, who was divorced. Two months later they married. From then on Mum was never spoken of. I’m very grateful I met my husband so early on — my 18th birthday. We married a year later in the church where Mum was buried: I left my bouquet on her grave.
When my eldest daughter, Charlotte, was born, my dad was on holiday and that made me miss my mother even more. Thankfully, by the time I had my second and third, I’d built up a network of close friends.
Sadly, earlier this year, Charlotte died also without any warning. She’d sounded breathless on the phone, but by the time I reached her house she’d collapsed.
I had dealt with my mother’s death by telling myself that we all have a set of challenges to face. But surely I’ve had more than my fair share?
Charlotte had six nieces and nephews: I feel very strongly that they should be encouraged to mourn, as I never was.
The three eldest attended the cremation and the second youngest, who’s four, started crying for her auntie.
I gave her a hug.