Heron House solves a mystery
There is something about the hundreds of supporters of Have Your Say who get to our open day or write to us. People will share their memories of local life and their experiences, both happy and sad quite openly, there is a warmth and friendship that has developed which is unique and it is because of that kind of special understanding that I started some months ago to find the courage to share something personal but hopefully interesting. Having written and presented my article just before Christmas for this issue Kathryn our editor, was not very happy when I suddenly withdrew it but was overjoyed when I told her why.
My story starts in 1957 when I lived in Hulme with my Mother and my five brothers and her friend Norman. Our mam who was already a widow was suffering a devastating illness which was to end her very unfortunate life, a life which meant we brothers were in council care a lot and our mam only had us home from Styal Homes for about a year, she did this with the help of Norman.
Her illness took hold viciously and the day came which burns my memory when the Ambulance took her to Hospital and I knew we would not see our mam again.
The next day the Council people came to split us all up and take us away.
Ellerslie was a home for very young children and I landed up there with my younger brother Albert, who was even more upset and hurt than I was, but we both found that we could in a large way, bury our own grief and sadness by understanding the need that these young kids had for a Mothers love which was just not there.
Later there was more moving about to come as I became fifteen and was moved into various Foster Homes, and bit by bit contact between me and Albert was lost and I became more alone.
By the time I was Nineteen I wanted to know the things that I was not allowed to know whilst in care and the hurtful things that I had cast out of my mind.
The old Registry Office did try to help me but they could find no record of my Mother dying, it was like she had never existed, and visiting the old streets of Hulme was very depressing because all the old houses were being pulled down and everybody that I had known were all gone, I felt then that all I was doing was fetching back a mountain of hurt and I felt very alone and worthless and I certainly did not want any of my brothers to see me in that state, these feelings are not uncommon with care home kids even today.
It was on that day that I decided to Hitch Hike to London and good fortune must have been with me because with in two hours of arriving I had a job and a place to stay with new friends and a new life.
Some twelve months ago I decided to try again to find some answers about my Mothers passing and it was more in hope than confidence that I walked into Heron House opposite Manchester Town Hall where the Register for Births and Deaths is now located. The staff in there were very kind and understanding and tried everything they could think of to find some answers for me but yet again there was nothing, it was like my Mother had never existed, but as a last resort the young man who was assigned to help me asked me if I could remember Norman's last name, I could and he went back to his computer. Suddenly he was calling other staff over to his desk, he was printing something off, my heart was missing beats and I was feeling panicky as he walked towards me with a smile of achievement all over his face!
I never knew that at sometime my Mother Agnes had married Norman so my years of searching were under the wrong name! I left Heron House clutching a precious Certificate that told when, where and why, now I could try to find a resting place if there was one, but for a while this was going to be difficult.
When I heard recently that the Reverend Diane Brownhill who is a Mother and Grandmother was holding a small Service at St Cuthbert's for All Souls day which was for people who wanted to remember loved ones who had passed away I knew that I wanted to be there. It was a very comforting service with a gentle touch and the names of those who we wanted to remember were put on a big screen including my Mam, a small candle was lit for each one and Diane gave each of us a bulb to plant in remembrance in the Spring. "Even if it has to be in a window box" Little did I know then that I would not need a window box, things were about to change in a fast and furious way.
When I walked into the Family History department of Central Library, I was not sure how to ask for help because searching for someone can be a very complicated thing especially if you do not have much information to start with, but once again I was to find very helpful staff.
I had over many years tried to find my brother Albert but without success as I had been wrongly told that he had emigrated to America.
When his name showed up on the National database of Births in the Library, with not only the right year but crucially with my Mothers maiden name I nearly jumped out of my skin and another database pointed me to an address which was only ten miles away from my home.
During the first phone call all that was needed to be mentioned for us to know that we had found each other was Styal and Ellerslie, and after that emotional phone call we planned that I should visit and hear all about his three daughters and his son Steven who proudly holds the M.B.E. for his Military Service. My brothers family have all grown up and started families of their own but there was something Albert was not telling me!
As soon as he opened his door I recognised that cheeky grin and ginger hair and I just grabbed him, this was my little Brother that I had thought I had lost forever, so pulling myself together I walked into his sitting room to find a lady sat smiling at me and turning round there was a man whose face I thought I recognised and Albert realising that I was uncertain said "this is our brother John" the older brother that I had not seen for 52 years, he and his wife Geri had rushed down from Derbyshire for the reunion, I could have been knocked down with a feather!
The next few hours with tender support from Geri was something very special and the kindness and welcome this 'Prodigal Brother' is getting from his new and very extended family is beyond my wildest dreams and I am very proud of my brothers who overcame such a dreadful childhood.
John still cares for our Mothers Grave which is in Weaste Cemetery she rests with her mum and dad, the grandparents who died before my time and it is there, with great love, that I have planted my bulb into its rightful place.