My mum passed away when I was only eight years old. Dad turned to drinking, and more often than not, our cupboards were empty. Id beg for food at school, struggled with my grades, wore tattered clothes, and eventually teachers noticed something wasnt right.
Child welfare officers visited our home several times, and soon my dad faced some pretty strict conditionsif he didnt sort himself out, he risked losing custody of me. Thankfully, Dad came round, put away the bottle, and from then on the visits from the inspectors were uneventful.
After some time, Dad told me he wanted me to meet a woman he cared for. We went to see Aunt Margaret. I was nervous about meeting her, the memories of my mum were still raw, and I didnt quite approve of Dads decision to start seeing Aunt Margaret.
But when we started chatting, I immediately felt her warmth. I became friends with her son, Thomas, who was a year older than me, and together we joined the local football club. Dad was glad I took to Aunt Margaret so well, and a month later, we moved into her house. Our flat back in Liverpool was rented out for extra money.
Before Dad could marry Aunt Margaret, he was tragically killed by a car, driven by a drunk driver. Officially, I wasnt Aunt Margarets child, so social services sent me to a childrens home. When I left, Aunt Margaret promised me shed fight to bring me back as soon as possible.
She kept her promise, and after two months, I returned to her home. Those two months were enough for me to experience the grim world of the orphanage. Ill always be grateful to Aunt Margaret for not giving up on me, for becoming a real second mum. Whenever I called her Mum, I often saw tears well up in her eyes. Aunt Margaret is a remarkable woman, and her son Thomas has become my true brother.
Were grown-ups now, with our own families, but Mother Margaret remains the heart of our little circle. Twice a mother-in-law, shes never argued with her daughters-in-law, and neither my wife nor Thomass wife ever refer to her as mother-in-lawthey both call her Mother Margaret because of her kindness and compassion. And every time I hear her called that, theres a twinkle of real joy in Margarets eyes.
Looking back, I realise family isnt just about bloodits about who chooses to stand by you. Thats the greatest lesson Ive learned from Mother Margaret.
