kate-g

Joyce, what a lovely post! It was nice to hear more about your Mum!
If I had had my Mum around all the time, I think my loss would be harder to bear. Losing a loved one is the pits, whichever way you look at it. But I feel other peoples losses very much, because so many of you have had your loved ones around on a daily/weekly basis. I can only imagine what the loss of that regular contact must feel like. It must be absolutely devastating. My Mum moved to Greece about 18 years ago. I would see her every year, but it is not the same as sharing your life with a person, and having them die. It must leave such a gap in your life. Like Patricia with her husband, to name one of a few. And Jules who has spent the last 2 years battling this on a weekly basis with her dad. I do not mean to leave ANYONE out of this, each and everyones stories touch me deeply.
I guess I could be upset that I didn’t have my Mum around for the last 18 years, but the thing is, she was doing what she wanted to do. When she first left, I used to feel angry at times that she wasn’t around to help me with the nitty gritty parts of life, when I could have done with her being around. But, that passed, and I just felt proud of her, that she had followed her dreams. Funny thing is, even though she wasn’t here physically for me, she was in later years (she was homeless, by choice for at least the 1st 9 of her years away), contactable by phone, when she eventually decided to get a mobile phone, and that was somehow enough. Her love and unconditional acceptance of my life, was always with me.
However, I digress. The point is, when you have a week by week existence with a loved one, their death must surely be harder to cope with. How could it NOT be?
I feel very keenly how much losing your Mum has affected you, and your everyday life.
Bloody annoying really! Yes, I also get the feelings about “TOO SOON! SHE SHOULD HAVE HAD MORE TIME!!!”
Grief does seem irrational sometimes. But is it what it is, ultimately. Grief.
Much love to you Joyce!

Thanks Patricia. You know, I think all that typing was something I had to do. I feel quite purged, as I’d never written it all down before. It really helped. Thanks to all who took the time to read my ramblings………….and Joyce, SURELY none of your posts have been THAT long!!
I’m so glad for this site. I really feel it has helped me so much in coming to terms with Mum’s death.
Lots and lots of love to you all xxxx

Well, I’m supposed to be at work this morning, but my husband is stuck in London, so I thought I would continue while I await his return.
So, yesterday’s post is such a sad read. But it was sad. Can’t escape that.
So, anyway, after she died, I called my Brother, and he came to the Hospice. Neither of us could cry at that point. We sat, together with Mum, and shared a bottle of wine, and reminisced the night away. It was really peaceful. We left there around 7am. When I got home I began calling people to let them know she’d gone.
It was like being “in this world, but not of it”. Like a bare kind of functioning. Still no tears. It wasn’t until later in the day, when I was at my allotment, that the tears came. And when they came they didn’t stop. I remember being very aware that I was not only crying because Mum was gone, I was also crying for the suffering she/we had had to experience in her last 2-3 weeks. I just could not seem to shift the images of Mum suffering, they would not go away.
My husband took me home, and ran a bath for me. When I was done in the bath, I came upstairs to the PC, desparate to see photos of my Mum, when she was alive and well. And that’s when I found the video clip of her. I had taken it in January when I had been staying with her In Greece prior to her return to UK. To hear her voice, was just SUCH a comfort. And the video clip was of her at her best, feeding all her stray cats, singing silly songs and teeling them all off! Mum at her eccentric best. I sat and laughed, and laughed, and cried some more. But laughter was what helped. It felt as if watching that clip, somehow wiped out the rawness of the suffering we’d just been through. And I sat there, and thought, and realised that the last 2-3 weeks of her life, were such a TINY blot, compared to all that had gone before. I decided to concentrate on the good memories. I can’t tell you how many times I watched that clip in the weeks following her death. It gave me a perspective. 3 weeks, out of 68 years. I was thankful to be able to look at it that way, instead of concentrating on the nightmare that we’d suffer prior to her dying.
Another thing that helped, was that I knew for sure, that Mum would not want me to suffer after her death. I knew that she was free of it all now, and I took great comfort in that too. When someone dies, it is so hard to see anything positive in anything. But the kind of thoughts I have described helped me immensely. Also, I returned to my allotment. One friend joked that I would dig through to OZ. Having hard physical work to concentrate on helped too. I’d found that when she was in hospital, the hours I spent feeling utterly helpless, were helped, by spending time there when I wasn’t with her. I dug, and planted and watered and nurtured! THe same followed in the days prior to the funeral. It was about the only thing I could concentrate on. Luckily I had husband around to help with the kids, as I couldn’t seem to manage even the simple tasks of cooking a meal. It was so hard.
Her will was lovely. Short and simple, splitting her worldly goods between me and my Brother, but I liked the bit about the funeral. “It must be brief, Christian and CHEERFUL, and with wild flowers!
The day of her funeral, the sun was shining. Me and my kids and my Brother drove out into the local countryside, and set about finding the wild flowers! We came home laden! How can you enjoy a funeral? Well, I did! It was a fantastic funeral! It all went so beautifully, and perfectly, just as my Brother and I planned. I read some emailed tributes from her friends in Greece. My Brother talkked about her, as did Mum’s Brother, my Uncle. He had people laughing, recounting a few stories from their youth.
It was, dare I say, the perfect funeral, and it was, as far as I could tell, just as Mum would have wanted it! THAT helped too!
The next day my Brother and I collected her ashes, and flew out to Greece. It was really hard going back to the caravan. Both of us spent alot of time there, and did alot of crying. I did my “physical” work thing, and weeded her garden, and cleaned up the caravan, as the cats had taken it over after she left, although they had by the time we arrived, moved on, presumably because of the lack of food. Her ashes were scattered in her garden, and around an ancient olive tree which was part of her view. The rest we took to a spot where several years before, she’d lived by the side of a road on an old boat (wreck)!! The wreck was long gone, but it was a beautiful spot, where she’d been very happy.
Returning to Uk a week later, I felt able to face the world again, having seen little of anyone, excepting the funeral. But after 2 weeks, I just wanted to be back at the caravan, it was like a need to be near Mum. So, I did it. I took my kids, and we went out 31st May, and didn’t return till 24th July. We stayed in the caravan, and it was just what I needed. It gave me the time to come to terms with it all. I was able to take my time, clearing out her stuff, slowly slowly. She didn’t have much, she was a simple woman. The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to do, was clear out her clothes. By the time we left at the end of July, the caravan was left, a bit like a shrine I suppose! I had stuck pictures of Mum to the walls, to replace paintings she’d done (which I brought home), and I left enough stuff, so that it still looks like she is living there! I’m hoping to get out for a week later this month. Then, I think I will try to draw a line under Greece for a while. I doubt the caravan will be habitable after another winter, being held together with string and masking tape, as it is. But I won’t be there to see it’s demise. I will stick with the memories.
With my Mums memories, and my positive slant on life, I feel I’m doing Ok now. I was away on a camp with the kids a month or so ago, and some more grief shifted there. Lots of meditation and Qigong, I found myself one morning back at square one, crying and crying and feeling the loss all over again. I guess that will happen again at some point. But it was good to get some more out. After she died, it felt as though I had this big black well inside me. Black and deep, in my belly. And slowly it has gotten smaller, and somehow shifted in my body. My black well has shrunk, and moved up to my heart area on that camp, and it is easier having it there. I’m hoping that it will gradually shrink, into something soft and warm and pink, and stay close to my heart.
Thanks again for reading.