My mother and I

Dipping in and out of all your lovely messages and wise words has been hugely comforting over the past week. To hear your stories about the loss of your own mothers has been both soothing and reassuring and I thank you all so much for sharing them. The warmth and solace that your messages bring with them might seem disproportionate to the content, but just reading them makes me know that we're never on our own.

Strange the cards we are dealt. My mother was an intelligent woman who either didn't have the right circumstances to develop her intellect or maybe she never wanted to and the curiosity was missing.  Either way I feel sad that she could have had a much happier life - on her own terms not mine. Her cup was always half empty and she was always afraid of what others might think. I remember her telling me when I was in my early teens that she would rather I went into town with rollers in my hair, plus headscarf, rather than chance any of her friends meeting me and seeing the horrendous backcombed bird's nest that sat on top of my head. I of course thought my hair was the epitome of cool!

Lily's 85th birthday

Over the years I embarrassed my mother over and over again.  She wanted a secretary married to a doctor and she got someone who gave up living out her dreams aged eleven - full stop. After that I had no interest in being a high achiever at school, after all everyone hated me for it and I'd had enough of being the one to beat. I was much more interested in colouring my world with a rich tapestry of dazzling experiences. I had no idea how to achieve this other than having an instinctive knowledge that there must be more in life and the best thing to do was to get out there and live it.

My mother loathed the path I'd chosen and felt utterly betrayed.  She had spent her life in the cotton mills of Bolton as had her sister and mother and always swore her daughter would have a better life. The only problem was I knew it too and my version of a better life was totally different to hers. I couldn't get away from the satanic mills quick enough, and it didn't matter to me where I went.

Lily on a day out with Philip and I, having tea
 at The Dutch House in the Howardian Hills

After I gave up trying to please her academically, I decided it was better to do well but never ever excel and that way I could please both of us. This was my first big mistake, my mother wanted me to be the best, like she was, at school. I was the first daughter, niece, grandchild in the family and was adored and made a huge fuss of. I was hothoused like an orchid by my grandmother and great-uncle in the evenings when my mother was on the night shift in the mill.  Uncle Denis, who was in the Great War and so learnt some French, would be teaching me pidgin French on his lap when I was three years old. In their two up two down terrace we would all sit around the table in the gas light at night, where I'd recite french, draw pictures and sing songs for them until my mother came home from the mill at 9.30. My father was never considered to be an adequate carer by the matriarchs so I was never left with him.

My mother's family sowed the seeds to create a person who ultimately none of them could recognise. I remember thinking when I was less than five years old, if I was asked to choose between my mother, my aunt and my grandmother, I just couldn't - they were all equally important to me. They all thought, as I think many before them had, that their hopes and aspirations would be achieved in the next generation. I felt the weight of this and it was my raison d'etre in my first decade to be the person they wished for. However, the swinging sixties came along with feminism following hard on its heels and from then on I started to rebel - I would lead my own life, whether they liked it or not.

Lily with Lyra, her third great grand-daughter

At the moment my head is full of the things I could or should have done for my mother. I've come full circle in the past five years, once more striving with every fibre of my being to be the daughter she always wanted, not realising by then it was too late. I always instinctively knew you can't live your life for another person and Lily's legacy to my children has been that I've always tried to give them the wings to soar, without holding them down with my expectations of how they might do that.

My emotions are pretty raw right now, examining myself as a daughter. I'm wondering what my mother would have wanted at her funeral and I'd so like to get it right for her, even though I know she won't be there and it's really an occasion for those left behind. Knowing how emotionally fragile she was, I only once asked her what she would want.  She said she would like to be buried, that she had no faith and that it should be a dignified occasion.  With this in mind Philip and I have been considering the options.

Lily and me

We've found a natural burial ground where there are no headstones and no wreaths, instead the site is planted with wild flowers, bulbs and several trees. We've ordered a willow coffin with turquoise handles and trim - the colour of peace, serenity and tranquility, and I also know this was one of her favourite colours. There'll be Lily of the Valley on top of her coffin and we'll have bunches of daffodils, her favourite flower, for each person to throw into her grave. If it can be arranged at short notice, I'm hoping that a local soprano will come and sing one of Lily's best loved arias at the graveside. I'll read a poem and I'm hoping that anyone else who feels moved to contribute will do so. We have another week for things to fall into place but my hope is that although I feel I could not live up to her expectations in life, I'll not fail her in death and somehow she'll realise how much I've loved her all my life.

And I hope when you grow up, someday you'll see
Your parents are people and that's all they can be.
Loudon Wainwright III

Wed 7 Mar Jen Arnall-Culliford Knitwear Jen Arnall-Culliford

Thurs 8 Mar Needled Kate Davies

Fri 9 Mar Rock and Purl Ruth Garcia-Alcantud

Sat 10 Mar Woolly Wormhead Woolly Wormhead

Mon 12 Mar Yarnscape Alison Barker

Tues 13 Mar Confessions of a Yarn Addict Anniken Allis

Wed 14 Mar Joli House Amanda France

Thurs 15 Mar This is Knit Lisa & Siobhan

Fri 16 Mar The Knitting Institute  Knitting Magazine

Sat 17 Mar  Life’n Knitting Carla Meijsen

Sun 18 Mar ConnieLene Connie

Mon 19 Mar  Just Call Me Ruby Susan Crawford

Tues 20 Mar Tiny Owl Knits Stephanie Dosen

➤Wed 21 Mar Ulla-Bella Anita Tørmoen

Thurs 22 Mar Heike Knits CANCELLED