On Saturday it was exactly 18 months since my mother passed away. She died aged 55 from the happiness ruiner that is cancer. Even writing those facts brings tears to my eyes, which is why I haven't written publicly about this before now. Instead of telling you all about the gaping wound that still inflicts my life daily I'm going to share the eulogy I wrote for my mum's funeral that was shared with her nearest and dearest. Thank you for reading.
________________________________________________________________
Growing up I
never really thought I’d be without a parent. Of course, nature designs it that
way but in all my thoughts of the future, in all the imaginary musings of
things to come I always pictured both parents, alive and happy, offering moral
guidance and endless cups of tea. I thought they were invincible. I hoped they were.
Since mum
passed away people have been asking me what kind of childhood I had, what kind
of mother she was. I pity anyone who can’t answer as I can; that I had the kind
of childhood that I wouldn’t change for the world and the kind of Mum who,
along with Dad, taught me that life isn’t black and white.
Mum
encouraged me to question the world around me and not to blindly follow the
crowd. She nurtured my individuality and even when I’m sure she disagreed with
decisions I made she supported me fully, something which can’t always have been
easy.
Mum was one
of the most intelligent people I knew and I will miss not being able to turn to
her for a swift dose of reality or a chat about our shared disdain for poor
spelling and grammar.
I will miss
calling her every day from work and us greeting one another in French.
Whenever I
neglect to do the housework I will remember it is because I inherited her
belief that a tidy home is the sign of a wasted life.
When I go to
the dentist I will smile when I recall how she’d tell me to pull myself
together if I said I was scared although we both knew she was really the one in
need of a hand to hold.
Mum was full
of wisdom; “Youth is wasted on the young”, “always bend your knees slightly
when standing”, “drink more water”, “be kinder to people Simone, you don’t know
what’s happening in their lives”.
Mum always
put her family first and in the weeks before she passed away she was more
concerned with how her illness was affecting her family than about herself;
were work OK with the amount of time I was taking off, did I have enough
petrol, could I please sort out Sean’s tax return, is Dad getting enough sleep?
Mum asked for very little but gave so much.
There will
never be enough time to tell you how much I owe to my mother and how much pain
her loss has caused me, but it is said that happiness is the art of never
holding in your mind the memory of any unpleasant thing that has passed, and so
when I remember mum I will remember her love of cats, and the colour orange and
Maltesers. I will remember her beautiful
smile, her honesty and her integrity.
Finally, to
my mum I say this; everything I am, I am because of you.
