This might be a heavy blog for some to read.
I don’t apologise.
Some time ago I blogged about my first Mother’s Day with dead mother.
That day was easy for me to cope with. Mum had made it easy because she didn’t think much about days like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. We were brought up to not care much about them either.
Tomorrow isn’t a national or international day, not a public holiday.
Tomorrow is a Monday. A work day. Just another day closer to bloody Christmas.
But to me tomorrow is a very big day.
Tomorrow is the 1st anniversary of Mum’s death.
Mum didnt teach us about what to do on this day. She would have taught us if she knew how much it would hurt.
I am typing this at about the time Mum began her journey away from us. The last leg of her 9 week & 3 day battle with pancreatic cancer.
At about this time most of our family were gathered.
Amanda and I had taken sole charge. Mum’s needs had become so great and so personal that it was a job for her daughters.
Damien and Mum’s grandchildren and their partners stayed outside, talking, eating, drinking and laughing on the patio.
(I dont have a photo of Damien here!!)
Mum loved her patio.
(Mum’s last visit to her patio)
The night/morning she died, Mum wanted us all to eat together. She wanted to hear us when she was awake. She wanted her family close. She wanted laughter and music.
Most of us chose to honour those wishes.
She lay weak and unable to communicate with any ease, but listening to her family.
We stopped as we walked past her bed to say, ‘Hello.’ A moment here and a moment there.
Her body changed rapidly in her last hours as it began it’s shut down.
She didnt want to die. She was fearful.
She fought her death for hours and hours.
It came though.
At 7:20am on the 17th of December, 2011, she left.
Her fight over. In pain no longer.
Now a year later, the images in my head are as vivid as they ever were.
My feelings of loss and sadness have come back as strong as they ever were.
My anger has flared.
My eyes cry.
I know she wont be back now.
I know she is near but that doesnt help. I cant see her. She cant help me pack my house or find my passport.
So that isnt near enough!
She isnt here.
She wanted to be here.
She wanted to live until 76.
She only lived until 70.
Our shared birthday is coming up.
I don’t want it anymore.
I have to try to be brave. I will try – in a minute or two.
I am so grateful to Mum.
Grateful for all she did for us when she was alive and for all she has done in death.
In life she raised us alone for most of our lives. We never went without. We did everything our friends did. We had everything our friends had. She worked day and night to provide for us.
In death she has afforded us with enough money to buy homes, build extensions, go overseas…
I even won 2 more dogs!
Im proud of my Mum and I know she is proud of me too.
Of us. Most of us.
So – time to be a big girl, shake the sadness and remember,
‘Heaven cannot empty my heart of you.’
We can do tomorrow, Mum. It will hurt like hell, but we can do it. Perhaps a G&T tomorrow will help us.
Gordon’s, tonic, ice and lemon.
Here are some pics I found of the times post diagnosis and pics of people who were there, all day everyday. All night every night. From afar or near. They are in no particular order. Typically, my hard drive is at work and precious people will be missing from this blog. (Grandson: Daniel, Josh’s partner: Chloe, Dad, Mrs Mac – Mum’s amazing 84 year old neighbour, Connie – who helped with food, Aunty Chris and 2 of my brothers.. Forgive me if I’ve forgotten anyone)
I also want to share a song. Id love to share 2 songs but I cant share April Rain, kindly sent to us from Nikki Lamborn and Been Feeney (Never the Bride) but I can share Heaven Can Wait.
Heaven Can Wait has helped me immensely in the past 12 months. Singer/Songwriter and very dear friend, Horse McDonald told me in a hotel room in Melbourne – “Heaven can not empty my heart of you.” Those words kick started me into recovery.
Heaven Can Wait (Click here to be redirected to the song)