My mum was a very happy person. She was well shielded by cruel truths and facts of the world - in her logic, she didnt know why a person could go and kill another, it just didnt make sense to her. I loved my mum because of this, it was like she had some innocent glow around her.
She loved hearing about me at school. Lots of things about my friends at school amused her lots, and she often wanted to hear about how they were doing. She loved giving me advice, and she was particually amused whenever we talked about dates I had been on and what new things I was discovering. I remember her once laughing and laughing as I told her of my first experience with a male body part. she just knew I needed to grow up a lot more!
She loved children. Im hoping up in heaven the small children there are being well looked after by her, no doubt. Thats what keeps me sort of happy - always visions of small children in white with her, like she was with us. she always wanted grandchildren, a great dream of hers which sadly wont be forfilled in person.
She LOVED horses. we even kept a few. Her last horse, Jindi, was like her own child. she loved nothing more than seeing him, mixing his feed, brushing him and talking to him everyday. she wanted to make sure he had a good home before she died....
mum was diagnosed with cancer. i remember her just complaining of a back problem, then all of a sudden all this new news flew in, it was cancer this and tumour that.
The day I always wish Id forget was the day we went shopping for the last time, just us two in marion. it started out as normal, we shopped like normally, her and me, and we dissused what we would eat for lunch, much to my delight. then things got strange when she started looking at beanies and hats. Unusual for her, i asked questions, all the answers remained silent. until she told me her hair might fall out.
then I knew.
she was scared, she cried so much and it scared me too. once she burst out crying and i felt like i was gonna be sick from fear and grief. we began to visit hospitals a lot more, and chemists, until it became a daily thing.
her hair fell out - which was a great shame. I'll always remember mum with curly blonde hair like she was before it happened. she always used to say she was ugly bald, but we always knew she wasnt. she began to take medication more, and had two operations to remove a tumour in her brain, sadly this was not enough.
the weeks i like to refer to as "the silent nights" were the long days at nights that mum was in hospital, barely alive. dad felt so attached to stay by her side that we stayed home a lot, waiting in this terrible agony that she might not be alive when dad returned.every night would be tears and pain. lines of "this is how it is" and "if i could change it, i would" echo in my mind still. i thought she'd still be here for christmas.
Sadly one night dad came home and told us mum had died. she looked peaceful, he said. im glad thats true. then we had to go to that awful furneal, i didnt know she was in the coffin until the men at the service bowed to it, and i felt this horrible insecurity, like this choking feeling, i was burning up and about to scream. she was right there, just now awake and with us. i wanted to fling open the coffin and try shake her awake but i knew it would do no good.
everyone said my speech to her was very moving - she would have liked and understood every word. i chose her songs for the furneral too, i knew from my childhood days what songs of hers echoed in my mind.
Her presense - particually the few weeks after the service, scared and upsetted me. my grief ridden father bought pictures of her and put them all around the house, even videos of her were playing. i couldnt look without seeing her face. one night i ran into my room and cried for hours because i couldnt take the grief of seeing her everywhere i went.
I am healing, but only slowly. I have these beautiful visions of my mum in heaven, so they keep me happy. some things do trip me up though, i feel starved of motherly affection, our outings together no longer exist. i cling onto anyone who could be willing to privately talk to me like we did, which is pratically nobody. when someone talks of another "being on medication this week" or anything, I freak out.
But you are safe now. Surrounded by children and gardening in heaven, Im hoping its not just my imagination. I had a minute dream one night of her meeting jesus which changed my thoughts a lot. Im going to wait my turn so I can join her one day. She will be remembered.
Bethany
(Her loving daughter)