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Over a month since I posted here. I do apologise but other things have taken priority.
My Mum had been in and out of hospital all year, mostly in. In early May I was busy trying to prepare for her discharge, which finally happened but was a disaster, and within 4 days she was back in hospital again. I realised she probably wouldn’t be able to cope in her own flat and I’d need to look for a care home… when she got better again.
But this time her chest infection did not respond to antibiotics. Mum had her 80th birthday in hospital on 26th May – we took a cake and some prosecco in, and the dozens of cards which had arrived for her to open. She enjoyed this – as much as it’s possible to enjoy a birthday while in hospital.
A few days later the hospital called me to say she’d had a very bad turn. I went to see her and was told to be prepared for the worst. My brother arrived. We spent the next 4 days at her bedside. I slept overnight at the hospital in special accommodation for relatives. Mum spent these days sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, trying to talk to us with clearly a lot on her mind. It was hard to make out what she was trying to say but we did our best. My cousins visited, bringing Mum’s brother to see her. We all knew it’d be the last time.
Early morning on 4th June I walked across from the accommodation block to Mum’s ward, in sunshine and with the birds singing, and I knew that would be the day. Around lunchtime Mum made it clear she’d had enough, and I asked the hospital staff to stop treating her except for pain relief. Mum pulled her oxygen tube off herself.
My brother and I sat with her till the end, holding a hand each. It was the most difficult thing I have ever done, but I hope we eased her journey. She died at 4pm. She was ready to go, and had been in control of the end, and died with her children at her side. I suppose that is as good a way to go as any.
The days since then have been taken up with all the necessary practical arrangements. We have held a celebration of Mum’s life for all her friends in her local church. There’s a cremation service for family only in a few days time. I’ve begun the process of notifying companies and banks etc.
I wrote the eulogy for Mum, which was read by a family member at the service last Thursday. It was a difficult thing to write but I wanted to do her proud. This is not the place to publish the whole thing, but I’ll share this paragraph from near the end. My mum was a very special person, and will be missed by very many people.
Maureen had what you might call a butterfly brain. She’d alight on one topic of conversation, then be distracted by the pretty colours of another topic, and off she’d fly. It was sometimes a hard job to keep up with her, but we all loved her for it. She was a magpie, drawn to bright colours and shiny things. She was our ‘bird of paradise in her bright plumage,’ said one friend. She could be exasperating at times but was always upbeat and positive. She could drive you mad while at the same time you’d be full of respect for her. She would remember people’s birthdays but forget how to use her mobile phone. She would look after everyone else but not herself. She was warm and caring and an inspiration to many.
I find it hard to believe she is gone. I know it’ll get easier over time but right now I miss her immensely. I wanted to ask her opinion on how many people to cater for at her memorial service last Thursday. I wanted to phone her afterwards and tell her all about it. I want to show her all the letters and cards I’ve received. Although I had the time to say goodbye I still wish I could hold her hand and kiss her cheek one last time.
Kath
This brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. My mum will be 80 this year too, so our mums are (I’m using present tense, note, because she’ll always be with you) the same age. I can’t actually think of anything worse than losing your mum (I don’t have children), so this must be an awful time for you. Someone told me once, that, in time, you’ll just remember the happy and good times and not the sadness of these days, weeks and months. Sorry if that’s not much consolation at the moment but it’s hard to know what to say. Thinking of you and be kind to yourself. Best wishes Helen
Thanks Helen. It’s very hard even though you know it’s going to happen some day. Picking out photos for the memory boards we made for the memorial service helped me think more about the younger mum I had before all her health problems began.
I have tears in my eyes, Kath. You’ve done her proud when it mattered most. Love her picture with the lavender. My mum is 81, and I treasure every time we chat.
Thanks Susan. Make the most of your mum. They’re such special people.
I will, Kath, thanks for sharing on your blog.
I am so sorry. My deepest and sincerest condolences to you and your family. I love your eulogy. Thank you for sharing. Kindest regards, x
Thanks Kitty.xx
Your mum sounds like she was such a character and wonderful to be around. Those words were a beautiful tribute to her. Thinking of you. xxx
Yes, she absolutely was a character. Thank you.
What a terrible shame to loose someone so special to you, my thoughts are with you.
Thank you.
I am so sorry about your Mum. I am glad you were able to give her a peaceful ending and hope you will find your own peace again at some time. Our parents are the constants in our lives. They have always been there and losing them puts everything out of kilter and we have to find a new way to move forward.
When my dad died a few years ago at first all I could remember were the hospital days and how he had faded away. Over time, though, my ‘real’ dad has come back and the things I remember now are the days of childhood and the things he did for us and the person he was.
I am lucky to still have my mum and remind myself of that every day.
Take care of yourself xxx
Yes, although things will never be the same, in time there’ll be a new ‘normal’. I’m trying to think more of the happier earlier times but as you say, it’s hard at first.
This is so beautiful Kath. Brought a lump to my throat. You did your Mum proud and the eulogy is wonderful.
In time as you say there will be a new ‘normal.’ But, give yourself time to grieve and then you will be able to remember the happy times you spent with with your Mum – obviously a ‘character’ and a very special lady.
Thinking of you xx
Thank you, Sue.
Heartfelt condolences, Kath. From what you say, God lit up the world with sunshine and wonderful sounds for your mum. I wish you strength and love.
Thanks Nicola.
Heartfelt condolences to you and your wonderfully close family, Kath. Your beautiful words bring tears and a beaming smile to my face – the special moments you`ve obviously shared all your lives together continued right to the end. (although I do like to think they still float around closely)
Warmest wishes xx
Thank you.
I lost my mum two and a half years ago, a week short of her 96th birthday. She too was a character and always said what she thought – even though at times that could be rather embarrassing. She too had ‘had enough’. We all loved her because of her quirks, not in spite of them, and she knew she was loved.
What I’m trying to say, very badly, is that you mum will have known just how much you loved her. That comes shining through to us so how much more so must she have known it. The pain subsides but the joy – yes, Kath, the joy – remains and I think of my mother every day. In a word to my daughters…’Grandma would have’ – whatever, or to my sister. You’ll never forget her and she will be with you always.
It must have taken courage for you to post this and for that I admire you. I hope that for you too the pain will subside and the joy that is the celebration of your mum’s life will remain with you forever.
Natalie
Thanks Natalie. It’s getting easier but will take time.
Thank you for writing this, and so glad you were able to be beside her. A friend (a nurse) once told me that some people need to ‘fold their tents and go’ on their own, while others want their family close. It sounds like you found the right way for all of you. It’s a cliche, I know, but happier memories will return.
I’m sure Mum wanted us there. She’d sat with her own mother as she died and I know she wanted the same for herself.
This was so touching, Kath. I lost my mum 30 years ago, but still remember how heartbreaking it is. She was called Maureen too. My sympathies are with you. xx
Thank you.
Sorry, should have posted the above under my own name. It’s Francesca Burgess xx
A moving post, Kath. I’m so sorry for your loss, and hope you’re taking care of yourself xx
Thanks Karen.