Obit of Joan
Joan had a foul temper. She was ever throwing tantrums. She would scream and swear. She threatened to commit suicide. She held a knife to her husband’s chest. Once she threatened to crash the car. Her outbursts were always someone else’s fault – you drive me mad.
So often there was generational role reversal. The children had to manage both of their parents’ tantrums.
Joan had a most terrifying temper. When I was 5 I could not find my sandals for a minute. Then I found them. She hit my bare bottom with the leather sandals. It was very painful. She screamed that buying shoes is expensive, ‘’and this is what it feels like’’ she shrieked – those words are still ringing in my ears. I was extremely frightened of her.
Packing a suitcase caused Joan to almost have a nervous breakdown. The simplest task was made into an impossible palaver. She was stressed about the easiest thing. On a train from Italy to France I went and asked her about something in one of the bags. She almost bit my head off.
I loved her when I was little. Now I ask why? How could I love someone so tempermental and wicked? It is a child’s instinct to love his mother. Moreover, she was my primary caregiver. I was reliant on her for survival. So I had better love her! She told me that she loved me and that she was my favourite. Just occasionally she did something sweet. She sang me a lullaby – she sang me ‘’go to haboo nee nee.’’ She is tone deaf but I appreciated the effort.
Sometimes my mother looked on me with genuine affection. That she was a nasty and beastly person even she had a softer side. She sometimes showed a shred of decency. She had the humanity to sometimes feel guilty.
In a rare moment of accurate self-reflection she was asked how she would have behaved if she were a child – I would have had a tantrum she said unashamed.
She could put on a treacly auntyish act. Looking lovingly. She would sometimes do this hours after her epic tantrum. When she was over her tantrum she demanded that everyone else be over it. But no we were left reeling.
These were some of her bon mots:
Who are all these people? Of her own children
I am going to have to get a whip
Do it or there will be war
There will be skin and hair flying.
I beg and beseech of you
That big bitch – of her eldest daughter
You are retarded – of her son
You are so stupid I am glad I am not one of your teachers – of her son
Nasty bastard – of her youngest grandson.
I am like a slave
This is the first time I have set down all day
Her husband adored her. But she often spat – I hate that man.
Joan would take things out on us. In NH one morning I awoke to her ranting not staying not staying. When I went to the drawing room she treated me to some tirade about something I did wrong
When Z was a teenager she could not do anything right. The way she walked and spoke.
What are you doing today? Like a tag team they were on her savaging her for hours.
Joan did not pause to think how she made her daughter feel. Z was an ordinary teenager. She was not unusually cheeky or ill-behaved. Yet Joan was hellbent on crushing her. Joan’s idea of how to be in charge was to scare people. I remember aged 16 she said the US was going to blame an unexplained plane crash on an innocent Arab. Pater disagreed with her and so did I. she took me aside and stared at me very hard – doing her most intimidating face. She threatened me – I was going to need a lot of money in the next few years. If I disrespected her again by expressing dissentient opinions then I would be cut off financially. She accused me of fascist views.
Joan seemed to have depression. I often suggested she be on anti-depressants. I should be she moped. And did nothing. She lacked get up and go. She may have had seasonal affective disorder. She was worst in Ireland in the winter. Not getting out of bed all day.
There was mental illness on both sides of the family. 2 of her cousins committed suicide. Another was schizophrenic. Her great aunt appeared to have been schizophrenic too.
I diagnosed her with histrionic personality disorder. She was inappositely seductive sometimes in demeanour and dress. She wore string bikinis in her 60s.
At a Christmas Dinner party we had to write down a task for someone to do. She wrote – kiss each member of the opposite sex on the mouth. This was when several close blood relatives were at the table.
She would be in her nightie in the kitchen at 5 in the afternoon scratching her arms till they bled. She had scalp irritation too. Psychosomatic? Only her husband did not detect anything amiss.
When people objected to her appalling misconduct she would say ‘’don’t be pulling and dragging against me children.’’
She would feign illness to quash dissent.
I have a violent headache. My eyes are like two hot coals burning out of my head.
My stomach has closed. It quickly opened!
When someone pointed out her outrageous and shameful behaviour she would parry it.
When we asked her what she did she would say ‘’Oh well I sort of you know do nothing. I have lots of things to do around the house. Foostering.’’ A task expands to fill the time allotted thereto. She was extremely slow. I dubbed her cunctator – the delayer – after the Roman general Fabian at the time of the Third Punic War.
Once she went to bed fully dressed after a row. She did not get up for work next day. She did not call in sick to her primary school. They called her and she did not answer. I did.
Later I went to the pool. Chatting with friends. She turned up as though nothing had happened – saying she had been worried about me!
Joan would try to make her children feel embarrassed. She would talk about sensitive topics cruelly.
Joan was the most bigoted person going. She was anti-Semitic. She had no objection to apartheid.
It is a good thing that none of us was gay. She would have preferred us to be dead.
Joan was very arrogant. She would put on a grand voice.
She disliked it when I joked about her with a waitress. Joan was put out that it was with a lowly waitress.
Joan was extremely anti authority. She reviled the police and government in any free country. She abominated every boss she ever had and her husband ever had. She had fellow feeling for tyrants from Saddam to Putin. She said, ‘’I am a little Hitler I want to have my own way.’’ She detested the US Government. She railed against ‘’bloody America’’
As an adult she had no hobbies. She painted something about 1989.
She was hostile to women who socialized or played golf even casually. Anyone who played for fun was sport mad
Joan loathed her mother in law as being controlling and hostile to her neighbours. Joan was the same.
She scorned political involvement. She told her son not to do what he wanted to – not to pursue his ambitions.
In Dubai she was in ducks for water aerobics. The happiest time in her life.
==========
Joan was born into an upper middle class family. There is some dispute about her birthday. Was she born a few days before she was registered? She was the firstborn. Her parents had wed the year before.
Joan’s father was a psychiatrist. He was an irascible sort. It was an explosive temper that she inherited. But at least her father had the excuse of doing and extremely trying job and earning a living for 8 people.
My grandfather was a furious figure who drank more than was good for him. Joan was very much her father’s daughter. But she did not critcisie him to us. That would undermine respect for parents including her. She may not have recognized he was a functioning alcoholic.
The mother of the family was a saintly figure named Gela. Gela’s abnegation meant that she was pushed around by her husband. No one had a bad word to say about her.
Joan recognized her mother as wonderful. She also noted that she became angry easily and her mother did not.
A year and a half after Joan was born she was joined by her sister Aine.
What anecdotes are there of Joan’s childhood?
Joan went to her grandparents in Luimneach sometimes.
Joan had been at school for a year. Aine was due to join the next year. Aine was brought in for a day to get used to the school. She started wailing during a scary moment in the school play. Joan was irate – Aine had shamed her by being such a baby.
Joan had a fantasy about being a spy as a child. This is indicative of her wish to keep secrets and to hold power over others. She thought she was sneaky. There are secrets that she tried to take to the grave with her.
On one occasion there was a map on the classroom wall. Joan was 10 when the teacher explained that the North was still in the UK. Joan was incensed! ‘’That should be ours!’’ she shouted out. She recalled years later ‘’I heard drums beating in my head. I wanted to go to war.’’
This was before she had heard a word about the rights and the wrongs of Partition of why it existed. Her instinct was combative. She someone over whom the red mist came down. She emoted.
She was unanalytical. I later noticed that she could only narrate and not assess. I would get pissed off – why are you telling me this? You know that I know this stuff. She could not formulate an argument.
Joan had grown up with the notion that Ireland was good and England was evil. Ireland should be totally separated from Great Britain. She drew no distinction between Great Britain and England. Irish Protestants were not really Irish – they were English in disguise. Yet she admired Irish Protestants – they were cultured and socially superior. She wanted to ape them not be them. That would be treason.
Joan desperately craved to be high born. It was a fantasy that was to shape her life. It was the major driver of every choice she made. She was acquisitive. Like her husband she tried to buy status. The status symbols were clothes, jewelery and property. It also included meals out and hotel stays. Tellingly it always excluded cars. She was indifferent to them. Yes, they had motorcars but they did not care overmuch which make.
When Joan was in school they had religious instruction. She asked a few worthwhile questions. The bishop was due to come to question the class and see that they were fit to go for confirmation. The teachers were in fear of the bishop. They said that Joan would not go for confirmation that year. She was academically able. Even the subnormal were allowed to go for it. But they feared that she might not give the stock answer. They did not want to be let down in the presence of his lordship.
When Joan was allowed to go for confirmation the next year they were all asked to kneel down and take a pledge not to touch alcohol until the age of 18. Joan was alone in declining to do so. That is the only thing she ever did that I respect her for. I bet 9/10 of the others broke that pledge.
Joan continued to say that she believed in Catholicism all her life. Her faith waned and waned but she never repudiated it. When asked about some inane Catholic doctrine she would say ‘’that is the Catholic teaching’’. She had no other defence for some illogical preachment. She did not stop to question should one believe in God at all let alone the Christian one and let alone the Catholic edition thereof. However, she told me contraception is the most moral thing in the world. She disagreed with Mother Church on that one.
Children were sent away to the Gaeltacht in holidays to improve their Irish. She went to Rathmore and to Ring. Her sisters recalled she danced with all the boys. She recalled little romances. She was always into the opposite sex.
Aine embarrassed her on these trips. She was hysterical about heights. Whenever Joan wanted to be cool she found that Aine was infantile.
Growing up haute bourgeoisie in the 1950s they had a maid. This may have added to Joan’s notion that she was well got.
Joan was feisty and choleric. She was very anti-authority. She clashed with her headmistress. She was moved from one school to another.
Joan was poor at the Irish language. She was dreadful at languages generally despite tuition.
The old man was tyrannical. His word was law. His daughters were not permitted to wear trousers. He allowed them wear shorts to ride. He then relented and allowed jodhpurs for riding only.
Joan left school. She did a secretarial course for a few days. She also visited England. It was her first trip overseas.
At 19 Joan started university. She read arts. One of the courses was Spanish which she failed.
Joan liked drama. She did some acting at UCC. She was in pride and prejudice. She used to go to drama festivals in Ireland.
At 19 or so she met Anthony. At first she loathed him. She detested him for his hauteur. That was hilarious since she was so stuck up herself.
At 23 or so Joan became pregnant. I do not know who the father of her child was. She went to Dublin and gave birth there to Victoria. This is perhaps because of her fixation with royalty. The baby was given up for adoption. The girl died after a few weeks.
Joan scorned other people for being illegitimate as she said. What was the child’s crime? The child did nothing wrong. You could say the parents did but not the baby.
After that she went to London. She stayed with Aine and did supply teaching.
Joan returned to Cork and finished her degree. She had failed a year
Joan felt the only things she could do was teaching. She enrolled to do a diploma in it. She clashed with her course director. She clashed with everyone who was ever in charge. She had to repeat the year.
Joan smoked but gave up due to its cost.
In her last year of UCC she began a relationship with Anthony. After two years they wed.
She wanted to be an actress but never tried. As she reflected she did not have the drive. She was damn right about that one.
She could not cut it teaching. Teaching was so easy back then. No pressure to produce decent results. You could get away with anything. There were no parents’ evenings. Pupils had no right to complain. There was no form filling and no performance management.
Joan was very acquisitive. She said money – she wanted money. Oh God she said in envy for rich people. But the money obsessed one did nothing to earn it
Joan slobbed around at home. I am so unlucky and so unhappy. If I had my time over I would do it all differently.
Joan was an alcoholic. She did not recognise it. She liked her G an Ts. She was getting drunk a few nights a week. What example did that set for me? She drank almost every evening.
I remember Joan being drunk when I was about 6. Dad had to put her to bed. I was scared. Even then I knew too much alcohol could kill someone.
Alcoholism contributed to her emotional instability. It dysregulated her.
Joan is a bitch. She is cold hearted, cruel and self-indulgent. She did not care for her children. She bought us things with other people s money.
She felt so sorry for herself she had no compassion for her children.
She said that Anthony did not care for her and would not be upset at her death. When she almost died she said to him will you let me go – grant me permission to die. He said no.
What can I say in defence of her? She read me a lot of stories? Sometimes she was pleasant
We would go home for the holidays. She would be decent for a few days and then horrid. When dad went to the desert she would be horrific.
When dad almost had to go to Fawley she was evil. That would mean she would no longer have lots of spending money.
She liked living in Chad as it was the poorest country in the world. There she could indulge her fantasy of being an 19th century aristocrat. Being white meant she was assumed to be upper class. Compared to most people there she was super rich.
Schooling for her was about her feeling posh. Our happiness and wellbeing mattered not a fig.
She was a useless piece of shit. She set a terrible example
She had a huge garden and hated gardening. The big house as so she could think she was the queen. In her own mind she was a victim.
Joan did not see that actions have consequences. When she was grossly offensive to her daughter then her daughter stopped speaking to her.
Joan was also a pathological liar. She denied what she had said. She denied emails she had sent even when I had them because evil had passed them on to me.
She liked to take umbrage. She fell out with people like Dan and John B.
On the beach Dan and J met friends. They walked off to chat to them. Nods said we came to speak to you.
Nods was mortally offended. They had not been received as though it were a state visit. For 10 years she did not speak to him. Dan is the loveliest guy alive. But she blanked him for 10 years because he spent half an hour chatting to friends. He did not dance attendance on her.
Anthony totally took her side. He was sometimes a coward. He was said and led by her. He said after they reconciled in 1990 now you get your sticky bun when you go to their house. They think they are royalty – as my aunt said.
She looked down on Judith. She called her a bimbo. But Judith was smarter than Nods. She had some drive. She achieved something in her career and sports and amateur drama and had a real relationship with her children.
Being entitled was one of the worst things about her. She wanted to be literally titled as Lady Beara. She considered an obtrusive display of deference to be no more than her due.
I recall on a plane flying out of the Seychelles in 1990 we were due to take off. Someone was standing up and remonstrating with the air hostess. It was delaying us all. Who was that woman loudly arguing? It was mum! I realized to my horror. All 5 of us were seated separately. The flight was packed.
They were always buying junk. We moved out of Saudi. Packed up everything. Then they still bought more! Shopping was a substitute for a hobby. As C said they always prioritized material things over being with us.
Action speaks louder than words. They voted with their feet countless times. They chose to be away from us. Even in 2023 they could have decided to be near us. They did not. In Ireland they could have opted to be somewhere accessible. Yet again they chose to be somewhere remote.
She was inconsiderate to say the least. She bought 2 automatic cars in 2 years when I was learning to drive.
Coming back from university, she would not come to pick me up. It was a 24 hour journey from oxford. I had to take the bus from cork. She was too busy doing nothing.
Nods was always so slow. She was frustrating us. She was trying to underscore her own status. We all had to wait for her
Trying to get her to leave a restaurant. She was deliberately slow. Sitting down laughing – I can stay here as long as I like.
I revile her. What a bitch
I used to walk around in 2007 saying out loud I hate my mother I hate my mother.
I recall aged 7 being at Abbey Lower. I was going to go to school there. I knew that. I had been told several months before. I do not recall any trepidation arriving there. I had visited several times afore to see my siblings. Somehow it had not dawned on that I would be staying there that night. This was it. Perhaps I had blocked out the fact that this was the moment I would be separated from her for 8 weeks for the first time in my life.
The awful moment came in the front hall. I recall the black and white chequered tiles. The headmaster’s wife was there: Lady Gay. It was time to be parted from mommy.
‘’Say bye bye to mummy’’ said Lady Gay.
‘’Bye bye mummy’’ I said through a torrent of tears. Lady Gay hugged me to her reeking breast and hustled me away.
It was the most traumatic moment of my life.
In later years I came to perceive what a vindictive bitch my mother is. How could she do that? How could she separate her child from her by 4 000 miles? It was all utterly avoidable. No one in her generation had been to boarding school. No one had ever been to Scotland. We did not know anyone there at all. It was all in pursuit of her unachievable ambition – to be posh. If she really wanted to be posh she could at least have behaved with some class and not acted like a raving banshee.
A week later I had a phone call from my parents. It was my birthday the day after I was deposited at the school. This phone call was a ‘late’ birthday phone call. Phone calls were not allowed at any other time.
Pater said, ‘’we would love to live down the road from your school but we can’t’’. It was an explanation that in my childish foolishness I accepted at the time. I did not think to ask why it was impossible to live down the road from our school. We had managed it in Cork and in Saudi Arabia for a few years. 99% of children at that age live with their parents. Why not me? What had I done to be cast out of the family nest into a school that was cold literally and metaphorically and run by a Victorian pervert who liked to watch 13 year old girls shower naked.
It was so my parents could brag we went to a toff school. The Prince of Wales had been there.
Our going to school in Great Britain was part of their love-hate relationship with the island. Joan was so ignorant that she could not distinguish between England and Great Britain.
The first evening meal there – I had cheered up a lot. We were served meals on plastic plates. I could not believe it. Was this a temporary thing for the first dinner of the school year. My sister had thought it was like a dolls’ tea party.
Abbey Lower was not all bad. I got friends after a while. We ran around the woods playing games.
Joan sometimes got the wrong end of the stick. Pater spoke to Mr. French at Abbey Lower. He said I was so good at RE. Pater quipped that no Irishman had ever been pope. Nods took it as a serious comment and said no Irishman had had that honour. Pater turned to her flushed with embarrassment ‘’It was a joke, Joan’’ he explained.
I recall in 1994 she had been on the phone to Stephanie. Joan speak to C. She said Stephanie will always ask about bad things – how is C’s maths. Joan took it that Stephanie was taunting her and not expressing sympathy. How did this make C feel? It made her feel that she was a disgrace.
She is dead. She is still and silent in her coffin. She cannot hear me. It is a pity I cannot hit her back or insult her. I want to piss on her. I shall do it on her grave. What an evil, evil bitch. When I was little I said she was the worst mother in the world. That is going too far. She has negatively impacted my relations with womankind.
She was not a major part of my life for decades. I do not miss her. I can move on. I wish I could hurt her for all the pain she caused me. I thought of boycitting her funeral
I wanted to publicly shame her and talk about Victoria in front of the whole family. I do not think it is bad to give birth while unwed. Even given my sister up for adoption might have been the right decision. But I do object to mum being so judgmental to me when my child was born. As though my baby were a crime committed against them.
Why should she not be shamed? She is so shameful. She was emotionally brutal to us. She deserves to be brutalized.
‘’we have been very good about this’’ she said – what was there to be good about? I never asked her for anything for the baby. Nor did I get anything. I would have liked some emotional support. What as my crime? Saving my baby? Not abandoning his mother as my mother was abandoned. Whose first child had a better outcome?
Yet she presumed to lecture me on being a good parent.