I used to judge my mother’s gambling addiction. Now I think she was longing for a fairytale ending

Toni Jordan’s mother gambled fast, ferociously, without any sense of fun. The author has come to realise she was dreaming of a bigger life My mother, Margaret, died in 2018 at 75. It was a good death, all things considered. The very end was savage, as endings often are, but she was in her own home and on her own two feet until the final week. For a woman who’d smoked two packs a day all her adult life, who’d never exercised or even walked to the shops, who refused to drink water (“I’d spew!”) and lived on Coca-Cola, paté on toast, jubes and green olives from a jar – considering all that, she did OK. During my mother’s final days, I had it easy. My sister, Lee, lived closer and is, to be honest, a more nurturing person. She’s caring. Patient. Lee is also better with money than me, but I thought I should at least attempt to help – so at the end, I took charge of Mum’s bank accounts. She lived on the pension and died with a run-down brick veneer villa unit in an over-50s complex, an old car worth close to nothing, and a small amount of cash. Continue reading...