Marriage Monday ~ September 3 (Mentoring)

Christine over at Fruit in Season asked us to share stories about our mentors.

Most mothers serve as mentors to their daughters by default. At least that's the way it should go. And yet it wasn't until after my mother passed away (May 2006) that I actually understood a little of the sacrifices she made to ensure that we, her kids, at least had few concerns to worry about.

I'm the youngest of four, with my next oldest sibling a sizeable 7 years in front. Hence being the baby of the family afforded me certain allowances and 'luxuries' that the older three went without. For starters, by the time I'd hit my teenage years I was the only one left living at home. And while money never fell from the sky, there was certainly a lot more of it around than when the older three were at home. Three less mouths to feed probably helped on that score!

But my mother sacrificed her whole life - figuratively and literally - for her children. She grew old before her time due to many, many back-breaking hours spent in factories and on assembly lines. She was a homemaker when we could afford for her to stay at home, but more often than not, she didn't choose to work - she had to work. I never remember her having a dream solely for herself. She never had a 'career' as such. Work was a means to an end. I think a little bit of her spirit crushed with each passing year of hard work outside of the home - yes, necessary work to fill our bellies - but she never complained to us. At one point, my father was earning a slightly-icky but nonetheless honest and proud living from shooting rabbits and selling the meat to a butchering company. Wild rabbits are vermin in Australia, and when you think about it, it was the perfect example of resourcefulness - seeing an opportunity, applying a skill (Dad is an expert marksman and an ex-soldier), and reaping the benefits. As a teenager, however, I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with anything remotely associated with my father's source of income - but believe it or not, this afforded the three of us a reasonable income for a year or two.

Dad would go out each night, shoot and return home with a ute filled with dead rabbits. He had a rack that he placed them on, and (this is kind of gross, sorry!) the blood would drip down into the tray of his ute.

It was my mother's job to get up there each morning, on her hands and knees, and scrub away the congealed blood, fur and (ick) 'tissue'. This not only had to be done for sanitary reasons, but this was also our only car. Can you imagine? I never wanted to be seen anywhere near The Blood Truck (not my phrase! LOL). The smell permeated the air around it like a cloud, and even when it was clean (and bleached), you would often catch a whiff of 'death'. I was a teenager and it was mortifying. Of course I never realised at the time how noble the effort was on my father's part - the food I ate every night was paid for with the very thing I was so ashamed of, and I kick myself to this day for my attitude.

But think about Mum for a moment. Would you scrub blood at 7am, even knowing you'd smell faintly of butchered meat for the rest of the day, no matter how hard you scrubbed yourself clean afterwards? I know I wouldn't have at the time. But this was the legacy my mother left me:

Sometimes, there are jobs that you just have to do.

My parents separated when I was about 21, briefly reconcilled, and separated again two years later, this time for good. The divorce was finalised a mere four weeks before my mother passed away, at the age of 55. During the years of their marriage, us kids knew of upsets and arguments, but mostly we thought that since they were still together after 20+ years then they were pretty much immune to marital disaster - after all, twenty years affords you the skills needed to let it 'wash off your back', right? Nuh-uh!

Since her death I have often thought of my mother in an entirely new light - a light which I wish shone stronger when she was alive, in order that I could tell her. Though it wasn't obvious a lot of the time, I really was soaking it all in Mum :)

My inlaws have been married for 32 years and still going strong. Yes, they are the couple I look to for guidance on marriage, not the least of which is because FIL and Hubs share such striking personality traits as hating to spend money and working too hard, LOL! They really are cut from the same cloth, those two. The inlaws are good country stock, no airs and graces, and MIL is Super Craft Woman :P She's always on hand to instruct me on my fledgling attempts at whatever craft catches my fancy that month.

I watch couples all around me going through the hardships of divorce and it just makes me want to cleave to Hubs even harder, despite everything I find infuriating about him, LOL. I just have to ask myself whether there is anything I wouldn't do for him. And the answer is always the same.

I'd happily clean up congealed blood, LOL.

Cheers,
Lizzie