Okay, I know what they say about clichés, but please forgive me if I seem full of them. I would like to be able to tell you all about progress I’ve made with my novel, but I’m afraid that has ground to a halt.
Life suddenly threw me a spanner, when a call came to let me know my mother had taken a turn for the worse at her nursing home. Over the next few day, I watched her let go of her life.
My mother had a tough life, no good education for her, no dreams or aspirations just hard work. In her lifetime she lost three children to death before their lives had began.
After my husband and I watched her take her last breath in this world and headed home to take time out to reflected on her passing, we had a call to say James (my husband’s father) was being taken into hospital. Two days later, the family was told he now needs a bypass operation.
Though my mother had a funeral plan, I have been working on her ‘order of service’ and an eulogy for the day. Finding the right words to create a lasting impression of a woman I’ve only know for half of her lifetime is coming hard to me.
We are so much more that just the person our children see. The old woman (82) with flat grey hair and vacant eyes drawing hollow sounding breaths in her last moments on earth, wasn’t all that she once was. Once she was a fair haired child chasing butterflies on a summer day. A teenage standing on a corner waiting for a friend to go to a local dance. A young woman with love and laugher sparkling in her bright blue eyes. The woman on the bus coming home from a night out with friends who met the young man with soft brown hair and married. These are the characters I need to speak to, to get a clear picture of the person I’m describing in my eulogy, but they are now lost forever in the mist of time.
My mother wasn’t one for talking about herself, or telling stories from her childhood. She was a real closed book. I always felt life hung heavy on her shoulders. In this day and age where people talk openly about their thoughts and feelings no matter how private or personal, mum was of the old school. You don’t hang your dirty washing in public.
Maybe my eulogy of her should be told from my point of view. I’m sure my sisters and brother have a different view point, but after talking to them I’m no clear about our mother. Her own siblings have either passed away or are much younger than her, so mum had left home, or working when they were growing up, and have no childhood memories of her.
In the future our children’s children will have a much clear picture of who we are with such things as Facebook, blogs and the social media. That’ll be great news for whoever is writing the eulogy, but a little worrying to, if you’ve hung too much of your dirty washing in public.
Now there’s a thought.
Have a great day,
Paula R. C.