So today is the day; one year since you died and oh my, so much has happened in that time. Of course I knew that your time here was coming to an end, but I did not know exactly when that would be. I wonder if you knew?
How I miss your physical presence! Even though there were things about which we did not agree, you were still my Mum. I loved how we had sorted through so much and as a result, we were so very close. I miss hearing your voice and talking with you on the phone. I miss hearing about Miss T’s latest antics and yes, there’s no doubt that dog has been a human and still thinks she is!!
I miss sharing those fantastic vanilla slices from the little shop around the corner – what a blessing that was and a beautiful gift for you in your final days; a treat you could really savour and enjoy. I treasure the memories of all the Saturday afternoons we spent when I was a teenager – you playing all the old favourites on the piano and me singing along. I am so thankful they had music therapy at the hospice and I truly don’t know which one of us got more pleasure from hearing and singing those songs again.
I miss the veggie soup, the coleslaw, the Christmas pud and the shortbreads, and although I can make all of them now, they were still yours. I miss just holding you and being with you. I miss being a daughter; your daughter.
I miss having someone from my tribe – my older blood females to whom I was close, and you were the last of those. First went Gran, then Bess, then Maggs and lastly you. You four incredibly strong women have had such a profoundly powerful impact on my life. I don’t have any blood females left who have known me from my birth and with whom I am close and that is a gaping void that will never be filled. But all of you have left me with gifts, and for those I will always give thanks.
My Gran – we spent so much time together when I was young. You gave to me your love of cooking and the skill and most importantly my sense of family and of connection to others.
My Sister Bess – you started me on my spiritual journey, of awakening and expanding my consciousness and seeking my own truths.
My Aunty Maggs – there are two things I think of when I think of you. How your laughter filled a room and your immense capacity to love. These are the gifts you have given me.
My Mum – yours is the last piece of the jigsaw in which you all have played a part. Through sharing your end journey, I now know that my purpose is to serve others on their end journey and I deeply thank you for that gift.
I have learned so much in the last 12 months and there’s so much that I now know that I would love to have been able to share with you, to help you on your journey and to have been able to serve you better. But I know that it was as it was meant to be and that it was to ignite my fire to serve others in this way.
So today Mum, I will celebrate. This morningI have been sworn in as a Justice of the Peace. Today, I launch Spiritual Palliative Care – serving others on their end journey. And today I will share lunch with some of the very special people in my world. I may no longer have a female blood tribe who are close, but I am spectacularly blessed with a magnificent tribe of women who I get to call friends. It is said that friends are the family we choose for ourselves and these phenomenal women are certainly evidence of that. How things change – the girl who grew up so very lonely now has the most fantabulous, true friends.
Mum, thank you, for all the lessons, for all the gifts. I know that you are with me, as are all the others, but I still miss you. I feel your pride, I feel your love; thanks for being my Mum.
With much love, Sharon