Mothers-in-law and enduring attributes

The November Spring morning shone through the stained-glass windows in the clerestory, bathing the congregation in a yellow light as they gathered in St Dominic’s Church, Camberwell.  My uncle David spoke briefly prior to his sons’ eulogy for their mother Cindy, his wife, and my aunt. David reflected on a conversation he had with his mother-in-law, my grandmother, Dot Meagher, twenty-four years prior.

I started this process of this some years ago, twenty four years ago it was actually, we had a twenty fifth wedding anniversary at our home in Rockingham street in Kew, and we just had a family gathering there. In the course of the evening, I found myself talking to Cindy’s mother, my mother-in-law and, I better just say at this point that I had deep respect for Dorothy Hogan Meagher, known to everybody as Dot. She had two great virtues I thought, she listened a lot and absorbed a lot and didn’t say a great deal, but she knew what was going on. She was also, I have to say, I can’t imagine anybody ever having a better mother-in-law than I had, because in that twenty five years of marriage she hadn’t interfered in the marriage once, I think that was a great effort, because I’m sure there was room for improvement in her daughter’s husband. In the course of that, she just said to me, she put her head to the side with a quirky grin on her face, she said, “You know, when you two got married twenty-five years ago I wondered whether Cynthia” as she always calls Cindy, “had enough sympathy for you”. And that comment, I don’t know what I said to her at the time, I don’t know how I responded but I’ve thought about it ever since really and it had two implications, she made assessments of me, they don’t matter much, but she also made some sort of assessment that Cindy was not a very sympathetic person. But I’ve thought about that and I thought well, I worked it out in the end that Dot had in mind when she said that, a conventional type of sympathy where people pour comforting words on somebody, and then walk away. Cindy didn’t have any sympathy like that, she regarded it as a lot of sentimental humbug. Her sympathetic mind worked along the basis of “this person is in trouble what can I do in a practical sense to help them”, and that is the way she lived her life. I have come to the conclusion that the greatest and most enduring attribute Cindy had was her ongoing and continuous anxiety to help other people in whatever way she could.

My aunt Cindy holding me, her god-daughter, at my Christening c.1970s

My uncle David commended his mother-in-law with two great virtues, to listen and absorb a lot, and there is no doubt that I too, was blessed with a similar mother-in-law, who shared these virtues and even in the last days of her life, she was thinking of others, saying to me, “I’m sorry you have to go through this again.”

As the autumn leaves gather and collect in the streets, and the need to hibernate comes early, I am reflecting on the enduring attributes of my mother-in-law, Sue. I met Sue not long before my uncle and grandmother had their conversation in 1997. We worked together at Harris Scarfe. As life ebbs and flows, I went overseas in 1998 and, on my return, I started going out with her son in 1999. Sue treated me like family long before I officially became family in 2012, and we had much in common. Any time I was in her company, I was granted an eager and committed audience. This was not something exclusive to me, she was eternally interested in all those around her, and her warm and hospitable nature was the cornerstone of all her relationships and friendships.

Sue started genealogical research in the late 1970s with her husband Mac when they were quite young, in their mid-thirties.  Over the years I had many conversations with Sue about history and research. But now I am sitting down thinking about those conversations, I find myself thinking about inheriting a legacy of family history research and wondering about her motivations for taking up family history, and why I hadn’t thought to ask her this question before. Perhaps Mac will know, but the same bitter realisations that followed my own mother’s death, wash through me now. How great the need is to ask questions, particularly when those questions can no longer be answered.

It crosses my mind that Sue won’t read the post I’m yet to publish on darning, she won’t send me emails to ask why she couldn’t comment on a post and she won’t leave comments as she digs deep to remember a particular memory inspired by my musings. She was such an energetic supporter of my work and I’ll miss her contributions and observations deeply. She has been an incredible influence, so proud of her Irish ancestry, generous with her time towards others in their research. I am relieved to find I have documented some of her contributions in past posts, acknowledgements that she would have read.  She made a sensationally significant breakthrough on my behalf, which can be read here, her Irish townlands research for me is acknowledged in this post, and her parting advice prior to my research trip changed the course of my family history knowledge forever.

At her funeral I met her Madden and Howard relations whom I hadn’t met before.  We had splendid conversations about Sue’s family history interest and research, which buoyed my spirits, despite the sad circumstances of why we had gathered. Rough plans were made, phone numbers exchanged, and the promise of a family pilgrimage to St Brigid’s in Crossley. People often commented on Sue’s radiant smile, and I just know how much the prospect of her children and relatives communing on the old lands of her Australian Irish ancestors will gladden her heart and ours.

My mother-in-law, Sue.

Rest in Peace Cindy and Sue.