Sometimes when I struggle to understand my mother's generation, I remind myself that there are stories behind that exterior that I am unaware of, and that's when I learn to turn my impatience into acceptance.

When my son reads books by Roald Dahl written using his gobble funk language, I recall my mother creating a similar kind of language years back.

Now her cup of woes was packed to the brim, and the stress was starting to affect her work. She was also tired of being made to feel apologetic about her work commitments.

How many of us know what our mother's favourite food is? Or for that matter, her favourite songs, movies, books? Or even her desires and dreams?

He wanted a successor he could mentor and control. With your mother, he feared she had the potential to take control of the arena and he would get pushed to the side-lines.