It has been a difficult few weeks trying to steer a course between and across the rift that is my original, and somewhat dysfunctional, family. On Friday I return to the oncologist for feedback on my last scan; I see her three monthly, but scans less frequently, so a tense time.
We all know about the 'Stress Bucket' analogy, but I like the psychologists extension which adds, its not about how full or how empty your stress bucket is, its how long you have to hold it, at arms length. Well its been a hard five weeks since mum died and I've been holding that bucket for a long time already, so today it was an arduous task to stand up and read my piece for mum.
Don't get me wrong I'm very at ease with public speaking, rarely unsettled and happy to 'perform'; it went with the profession and the career, however, with all the emotion, that's a different matter.
But I did it clear, strong and unfaltering I spoke; shaking in every sinew as my physical body tried to contain the emotion flooding my brain, but I did it.... And afterwards our son spoke, clearly, genuinely and so caringly; so proud of him.
All this to say goodbye to a mother and grandmother who tried so hard.
Why do coffins always look so small, but weigh so much? Not my mums frail chrysalis of a body for sure, perhaps the oak from which it was made? But I think it was the weight of all the 'loss' and the smallness of all that is physically left behind.
'Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player. That struts & frets his hour upon the stage....'
Maybe not up to the Bard's wonderful prose in Macbeth, but here's my poem to my mum, written with all my love and care beyond measure and over all time.
__________________
My mum wasn’t the usual mum,
The stay at home,
close as you can mum.
She was an everyday,
everyone’s mum.
Shared and sharing,
my mum.
Our mum, taught us care, fortitude, love and yes and much
more.
Love scared, love uncertain, but love forever, she knew , for sure.
Everyone liked her. Laughed with her….saw.
Our mum was their mum,
A friend to them all.
Our Gran ever constant, games and laughter too.
Happiest together.
Our eyes she saw through.
A walk from the bus stop,
a chat one to one.
And holidays remembered,
those moments, not done.
A word about families,
advice on a friend.
The way to move forward, she helped many mend.
At heart always young,
in thoughts and in fashion.
She loved you all so much. Cos life was her passion.
Our mum didn’t ask much,
of life or its riches.
Just wanted a family, normality clichés.
She lived , as she died,
quietly serene.
The requiem of her life, her family I mean.
And years past and
passing, in memories be,
With laughter and loving she’ll be there you’ll see.
She looks at me now through your eyes full of tears.
Love does not diminish,
it grows with the years.
________
I'd like to share a little piece
of family history
·
Victorian Valentines card:
·
OUR GREAT GRANDFATHER TO OUR GREAT GRANDMOTHER,
while they were still courting
Remember me, blessed
with thy love
I’ll n’er repine,
what’er my lot may be.
The sweetest joy of
all is mine.
If though remember'est
me
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