I thought this was posted.. but it says that it was still in 'draft' so reposted...
9th April.. the day my Mother died two years ago. I called her 'Muvver' as after the initial 'Mummy' stage she formally announced one day that she was now to be called 'Mother'. So in my rebelliousness I refused and so hit a compromise to call her 'Muvver'.. and that stuck!
What a surreal time.. the death of a parent. The fact of life that is obvious .. but one is never prepared for it. It still side swipes you.
It was always thought my Father would pass away before my Mother as he had been the one 10 years earlier that had been in hospital for a year fighting infections and then with the onset of Parkinsons it was always seemed that that would be the order.
Mum was a forthright, domineering, outspoken and strong character. Mum and illness or death just didn't seem to go together.
Mum always said that she was so not looking forward to getting old. The irony of her getting old was that her knees and hips went (the main things that carried her like a tornado through her life and her hectic schedules and volunteer work). She was still giving the 'old ladies' a lift to places, despite finding it difficult to walk herself. A hip replacement that was mucked up meant that her hip was never to be the same again.
She always said that she didn't want to live to be old or 80 and that she wanted to die in her sleep. So 6 weeks before her 80th birthday she died in her sleep. I know that she would be so happy about that.
A short illness/minor heart attack had her in hospital in the January. She said how she so much enjoyed being in the hospital like a 'holiday' and watching people and reading.. though by the end she just wanted to get home. Two weeks later she was out and back home where I was able to spend that time with her.
She was so pleased to be at 9 stone "I haven't been that weight for a long time" and our last goodbye was me hugging her so close and in someway knowing that was going to be our last hug and trying not to cry. She was happy to be home to see Spring coming up and the snowdrops blooming. Three months later she was dead.
Her spirit is very much with me and many times now I can hear her retorts when I do something wrong (and she was good at retorts!) , her laugh when something funny happens, and her encouragement or approval when I know I am on the right track. She said that she always lived her adventurous life vacariously through me! And yet, one thing she taught me was to find beauty and magic in the small things in life.
Love you Mum and miss you xxOO
Me.. a babe in arms... 49 years ago...
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