We were overseas when my mom died. We were there to have a holiday and to celebrate our son's graduation. Everything about the last month has been extreme - depths of sadness, immense joy, complete disorientation and a bit surreal . The weather in the UK was very hot - a symbol, I think of the extreme vitality part of the last month. Cape Town has been cold and wet - matching the sombre, sad happenings here at home. Extreme summer and extreme winter to accompany my extreme feelings.
People have been so kind to me. Chats, messages, meals, flowers, lifts to and from the airport and offers of any other help, have all eased the sense of loneliness that accompanies loss. I don't think the enormity of that loss has fully hit home yet - there has been too much to deal with for me to allow myself to relax into grief (as strange as that sounds).
I flew home mid holiday to be with my family. TD, Andrew and our son carried on with the road trip around Scotland. They had many adventures, and it was good for TD to know that her diabetes can be a happy international traveller and not restrict her life. I missed them all, but managed to return in time for the graduation.
I have been thinking about the gifts of being mothered and mothering. Both are experiences that define me. It was hard to write an eulogy for my own mother - how do you condense 84 years into two pages. I tried to find the essence of my mother, but that proved a difficult task. Here are some extracts from my thoughts:
Our mother was a teacher.
Being an extra bright, extra studious child, she finished school when
she was just 16 and by age 18 she had qualified and started teaching. And it has been a life long vocation for her -
she has taught in a variety of schools in Cape Town,
had a year supply teaching in London
in her youth, and after retirement has continued to be a teacher to all who
encounter her. She has taught us so much
– about compassion, resilience and gentleness.
Her life has been an example to us all.
If one word
could sum up a person, I would use the word “Family” for our mom. We – her four children and our partners, her 10 grandchildren
her beloved husband – were the focus of her love and energy. She would cart us from extra mural to extra
mural, cook a home cooked meal every night and a roast on Sundays, take us to
far flung libraries when we had out read the little library in our community and
take us round all the museums in the holidays.
This on top of a full time career.
Special occasions, like birthdays, were celebrated with adventurous
parties, lots of food and friends all gathering. I am sure that any of you who have been to a
family birthday will understand and appreciate what a musical family we are –
our rendition of Happy Birthday is famous in the neighbourhood and mom loved
the togetherness that our quirky traditions brought.
She not
only taught us about the importance of family and togetherness, she also taught
us about community. Mom loved
people. She loved their stories and
cared about their well being. Many an
hour was spent on the phone catching up with friends and mom went out of her
way to make people feel included. Many of
you here will have been touched by her kindness and concern. Many of you would have been given packets of
shortbread made by mom as a practical, tangible expression of her love for you.
Needless to
say, Mom had many friends. Good friends
who cared equally about her. Whilst
still teaching she joined a study group, then a book club, a group of people
who knit clothing for sick babies. She
taught Sunday school. She served
at the Coffee shop. Until a few years ago she walked with
companions along the river, swapping the newspaper crossword puzzle answers,
catching up on TV serials. She was
always surrounded by people. You all
meant a lot to her. Thank you.
Mom taught
us about how important it is to take time off.
Our family holidays at McLeary Cottage in Sedgefield will probably hold
the strongest, happiest memories of messy family life. We had idyllic childhood days on the beach, in
and on the lagoon, eating wafer thin cheese and tomato sandwiches, walking over
the hill and to Willempies café . Mom had a particular spot on the stoep and a
particular Morris chair that I think of as her Happy Place and where I choose to
remember her. I can imagine her there
right now, smiling and reading and listening to the birds and enjoying the
peaceful moment.
Mom taught
us about resilience. She had struggled
with health issues these past few years, but she showed a determination that
was resolute and absolute. She was
determined to walk again, be mobile, cook, read, speak and live her life to the
fullest possible. She pushed herself and
regained strength and mobility after very challenging circumstances.
And I think
if she were here she would tell us she hasn’t finished teaching us. There is still a lot to learn from her. Patience, kindness, tolerance and love were
her watch words. We may have to be her
hands and voice, we may have to listen harder to catch her enthusiasm, but the
kindness she has spread has rippled out and will not end.
So Mom
still is a teacher. Even in this
heartbreakingly sad time - there is something she would want us to do for
her. She would want us to be happy. We are going to try our best.
So I sit among my memories, surrounded by circles of cohesion and insufficient words, realizing that I don't have to imagine a world without my mom, because people don't disappear or fade from being, unless you let them.
