When Mum died, it wasn’t a surprise, but it was the strangest moment of my life up until that point. She’d been paralysed for over eight years from a stroke and fortunately we had been able to keep her at home until she took her last breath.
What was I supposed to feel at the moment of her passing? People were telling me all sorts of things. Some even went into great depth about all the stages of grief I would be going though. They seemed to know everything and for a little while, I listened to them. Then I made a decision to listen to myself. It was only then that I could truly start to understand the impact that my Mum dying was having on me.
She looked so peaceful, even though, one eye remained slightly open. We smiled as a family thinking that event at the end, she was still ‘keeping and eye on us’! Once she had taken her last breath, I sat with her for a while, but It didn’t feel like something I wanted to do. I had sat with her all morning, while she was still alive. After opening the window, setting her soul free she wasn’t there anymore.
I found it quite easy to call the Funeral Home and arrange for them to collect her. There wasn’t anything else she needed from me apart from to take care of her husband. Once she left, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I remember doing a lot of ‘pacing’ around and my ‘steps’ for the day were particularly high, considering how much time I had spent on my arse sitting with her.
I wrote poetry, I poured a gin, I walked the dog, I spoke to a few friends, I poured a gin. It was a lovely summer’s evening so being outside was a blessing. My wife and I went to the local pub. We sat in a booth an drank a bottle of prosecco. I wanted to raise a glass to Mum and to celebrate the amazingly strong and wonderful woman she was. I understand that I am not the first person in the world to lose a parent, but I had to be able to work out the feelings for myself. I watched her decline first-hand. I lifted her into bed when she was too weak to stand on the equipment provided and I washed her hair and saw just HOW much better that made her feel.
As I raised that glass of prosecco, I didn’t feel sad that she had passed away, I felt determined to make sure that her ‘send-off’ was a good one and that it wouldn’t be just an off the shelf service given by someone who had never met her. I had no guilt, apart from the not cleaning the house to her standard, but at this moment in time, I think she’ll forgive me!
Guilt must be a terrible feeling when someone has died. People have spoken to me about how much ‘they wish they had done things differently’, that they had ‘visited more’ or not missed that call as they were at work. I had none of that to deal with. I felt an inner peace that she slipped away peacefully with me and my Dad by her side. She knew she was nearly ready to leave, and she timed it so that we were both there. Before that moment, I was afraid of death and worried how I would react when the inevitable happened. In that moment, I felt such a surge of love and peace in my own world that I will always remember how privileged it felt to share in that moment.
I felt a sense of relief, a sense of peace and a sense of understanding that I had just witnesses one of the most precious moments people can have in life…as is, in death.
