Mum passed away on 20th July. We buried her in Mount Vernon Cemetery beside my Dad on the 30th. She’d become very poorly in June and ate and drank little, a slow and dignified decline. In the end, it was peaceful – my sister Ann was there with her to hold her hand.
I’m not sure about grieving now. In a way, we’ve done our grieving in easy stages. Year on year, season by season, sometimes day by day, she lost some of her power, first in the crippling infirmities of Paget’s and its arthritic complications, then in the failing memory which brought her more and more into the present.
And yet even as her memories faded, she was still there, inside the body the essential person was still there, could still smile, enjoy the rustle of birch leaves in the wind, the comforting taste of warm sweet tea, the closeness of a loved one.
I’m just so happy to have had her love in my life for so long. I’m so happy, that in that beautiful image of tradition, she has ‘gone to her reward’. She is still with us, in our lives, every day.