Mum and Dad

I was expecting him to look much older. A face to match the voice. But no, he looked very well preserved. I would have guessed, had I not known his real age, that he was in his late 50s. Hearing that cheered him up immensely. But his face was relatively free of wrinkles and lines, his skin had a good healthy colour and his eyes were as blue as they always were. Only the white hair on his head and face showed any signs of age having lost long ago the colour of his youth. When I arrived he was sitting down and as I was wearing my highest heels when he stood up he seemed much smaller than I remembered. He said he was 5'9'' as a young man but now he was much closer to 5' 7'' and, as my heels increased my height to around 5'11'' I towered above him. After a hug he sat back down and when I asked him how he was in a very small voice he said 'not so good' and told me all about his aches and pains, of which, sadly, there are many. The first couple of hours were slightly stilted, formal and polite but later in the afternoon the atmosphere lightened and we were able to laugh and relax and when it was time for him to leave I could swear he had grown in stature and his voice had returned to that stronger, confident tone I recognised.
I can't remember the last time I was alone with my mum and dad. I certainly don't think I have been since I was a 'grown up'. There has always been someone else there, siblings, children, husbands, step mothers and fathers. In fact the last time the three of us were together must have been before my sister was born over 40 years ago. They have a strange relationship, my mum and dad. They have been friends far longer than they were a married couple. Their relationship is based on friendship, shared memories, tolerance and a sense of humour. I was thinking just the other day that the only reason I can stay in touch with my rather mad mum is the fact that she has a great sense of humour. It was interesting to watch the banter between them, the almost flirtatious way they will tell a story. It was great to talk about great grandparents, grandparents, old maiden aunts and the places where we had lived. I found out things that endeared my wonderful paternal grandparents to me even more. My mum had never told me that the Christmas my sister was born (December 23rd) my grandparents has held a late Christmas for my mum when she came out of hospital 10 days later. She returned home to a decorated flat, complete with tree, presents and a turkey. The only extraordinary Christmas I remember is the one when we were forced to have sausages for dinner as my dad was celebrating Christmas with his 'fancy woman'. Actually this isn't a Christmas I remember but one I have heard about from my mum so many times it is almost as if I recall the horror of not having a turkey and having to settle for a pork sausage instead. My dad denied any knowledge of this, and in fact of ever having a 'fancy woman'. I learnt that my dad had a breakdown after the death of his father, that he stayed with the army for a year after completing his national service, that he thought he was ugly as a young man, compared to his very handsome younger brother, that he asked for his finger to be amputated and that he still loved my mum. I learnt that my mum would spend all the housekeeping on high fashion, married my dad for his mothers cooking, left the hospital in her dressing gown and walked home, while in labour with me, because 'after 24 hours and no sign of a baby what would you do?' They both whispered other little secrets to me the minute the other one left the room to pop to the loo or make a cup of tea and I learnt that maybe they would have had a happier, calmer, more fulfilling life if they has stayed married to each other. But then - maybe not.