Autumn colours

Mom always enjoyed the autumn colours on her birthday. She would have been 70 today. We will be going for a walk in the woods later, to enjoy the colours and to celebrate.

Mom's cancer was aggressive. The first round of chemotherapy gave her a couple of extra months. She couldn't tolerate the second round of chemo. The cancer fought back hard against the drugs and made her extremely ill. Our wonderful consultant gently suggested that Mom should stop the treatment and enjoy her last few months without intervention.

We had excellent palliative care at home. Mom didn't want hospice care. Our community nursing team helped us throughout. Mom's choice, respected.

Mom died on her own terms, in her own time, in her own home. She had time to say goodbye. She had time to plan her funeral. We had time to love her unconditionally and talk about how we would remember her.

And we do remember her. Every day. Not just today.

The end of summer

Three years ago, on the Bank Holiday weekend in August, my Mother died. This year, as then, the August Bank Holiday weekend signalled the end of the summer for me. This year, the rain fell in buckets, and I couldn't help thinking it was buckets of tears for the loss of my precious Mother.

It's a strange time, the anniversary of the passing of a loved one. Not something to celebrate, but somehow marked in an important way. 

My Mother has a strange way of showing up in my life on a regular basis. This year, she hid my ring. Not an expensive ring, nor a sentimental ring. Just a ring I was wearing. She hid it in plain sight. I spent several hours looking; I was obsessed, consumed by the need to find the ring. Within minutes of giving up looking for the ring, I found it on the tray in front of the kettle!

I'm not crazy, but I take this as a sign from my Mom that life is bigger than 'things'. Treasure your loved ones, make every moment special.

Frankly, it's all a bit too much for me

I have a generous, funny and loving Father, but I find it very distressing to visit him at his home. Not only is it full of memories of Mom, it is also full of stuff. Stuff overflows the kitchen cupboards, stuff is piled on the desk, stuff keeps the car out of the garage. This stuff keeps Dad trapped in a loop of always being too busy. Too busy to have a walk, too busy to relax, too busy to do important things. And yet he does nothing, but moan. He moans about everything. His garden is a profusion of colour from bedding plants. But if you plant so many plants, they will need dead-heading and watering. You know this, and you make time for this, otherwise, don't plant so many plants.

Yes, I'm grumpy. Yes, I'm intolerant. No, there isn't anything I can do to change this. I have to sit back and wait for the catastrophe. The forgetful accident, the con man, the trip or fall, which could take away his independence.

There is something else bothering me about Dad's house. The view in my rear view mirror as I drove away last night, of Dad and a woman who is not my Mother, standing hand in hand at the door, waving us good-bye. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, sits uneasy this morning, as I try to get my thoughts under control.

It is almost three years since my Mother died, cruelly robbed of her well deserved retirement, by a cancer caused by a social scourge, a smoking addiction started more than 50 years ago. Three years, during which not a day goes by without thinking of her, and wishing she was still here.

So, forgive me, Father, that I cannot embrace your lifestyle at this time, but know that I love you and will be there for you, when you need me.

The chair

Please don’t sit in her chair,

It makes me ache that she is not here.

Two Christmasses gone,

Her place at the table will never be forgotten.

I know you are a nice person,

Not wanting to hurt me –

But when I see you sitting there,

You tear a little piece from my heart.

I'm not dead yet

Anniversaries focus the mind. Bring back memories. A talk radio discussion this morning reminded me how angry I was in the month before Mom died. How determined we were that Mom would not die in hospital.

Mom was admitted for treatment of fluid on her lungs. A side effect of the tumours and the chemotherapy, she was struggling for breath, but still very much alive. A simple chest drain would make her more comfortable and she could come home to be cared for by us.

The first drain wasn't monitored correctly and stopped draining before the fluid was cleared. But the ward was busy, so she was sent home to wait and see. With only weeks to live, it was most unsatisfactory. 

A week later, her breathing deteriorated during radiotherapy to her spine. Terrified, Mom was admitted again. She was terrified of dying alone, in hospital.

Days later, no chest drain, my mother lying in a hospital bed on oxygen, unable to talk, read, sleep, eat. It was awful. The nurses cast barely a glance in her direction. She wasn't helped to eat or drink. I complained daily to the nursing staff. The only doctor on the ward was a junior oncologist, with no respiratory experience. Then I made a complaint to the patient liaison service at the hospital. I wrote a strongly worded email to say that my Mother was not yet dead and deserved the dignity of having her respiratory condition alleviated to ease her pain and discomfort. And allow her to come home.

An hour later, she texted me to say that 'the great and the good' were at her bedside. The consultant respiratory physician and consultant oncologist had found the time to meet my Mother, together, and plan her treatment. Hooray! She was home the next day. And she died peacefully at home 6 weeks later. Mom was just 66 years old.

How does your garden grow?

On a positive note, I'm linking this post with a new post, celebrating spring in the garden. And I'm linking up with Mammasaurus garden linky too.

 

Two sides of the same garden.

A metaphor for life.

My Mom was a keen gardener. A life-long devotee to rough hands, dirty nails and an aching back, she was immensely proud of her garden.

My parents thought that traditional, formal gardens were the only way to go. I am so different, mainly because I don't have any help in the garden. It's just me and the Boxers, and occasionally Mr B with the chain saw!

So I laughingly describe my garden as my 25 year project. I'm 7 years in to the project and I can see so much progress. For one thing, I have removed over 4 tonnes of rubble which the previous owner buried in the garden.

As I dug out the brambles, up came the broken tiles, old bathroom suites and rusty bed springs - I kid you not!

But, bit by bit, I have exposed the thoughtful planting of decades ago. The mature rhododendrons and camellias. The bee-attracting pieris and the established copper beech hedge. There are other delights too, including euonymus, elaeagnus, choisya, viburnum and sarcococca.

And I have added my own touches, the masses of wild flowers, colourful bulbs, my veggie patch, not to mention the chickens and dogs.

When Mom fell ill, I abandoned my garden, along with my job, to look after her. In the 9 months it took Mom to die, my garden became a jungle. Last year, I gathered all my strength and made a fresh start. I was pleased with the results, but some areas still remained bare. In the autumn, I grabbed a bag of 100 bulbs and planted away. I cultivated the wild flower areas. 

After all the years of hard work, my garden is growing very nicely. It's not quite what Mom wanted for our garden, but I know she would have been very pleased.

Photography by Lesley Beeton

Just another day

I wasn't going to write a post for Mother's Day this year. I think I said it all last year. But given the chance to link up with Save Every Step and share memories of Mom, I'm posting a short tribute.

Mom with my baby brother who turns 40 this week xx.

Just because you're gone,

Doesn't mean we don't remember

Or can't express our gratitude.

Your presence in our lives

Is constant, loving and good.

You are all around us

And we are your monument.

1944 - 2011

Grateful for ..... Nostalgia

Nostalgia, reminiscing, memories. Powerful human emotions. In the past week, we have had visitors from Australia and South Africa; people who were very special to Mom, who loved Mom and whom she loved and treasured in return. It could have been a difficult week for us, but it wasn't. We laughed a lot, talked about Mom and unlocked some precious memories. I am so grateful.

Things my mother never taught me

My mother was a fine woman. She was strong and jolly and independent. She was not a stay at home mom. She worked full time and I went to pre-school when I was just two years old. I loved it, I could do my letters and numbers before I was four. And consequently, the time for learning at my mother's side was gone long before either of us ever thought about it. In fact, we only talked about when I was well into my 30s and discussing stay at home moms versus career women. My mom never quite understood my reasons for not having children, I don't suppose I fully do either. When I was younger, it was because babies and research didn't mix, then it was because my husband works such long hours that I didn't want to be a 'single mum' bringing up babies on my own and being resentful. Now, life is a lot less complicated, with two lovely Boxer dogs and a widower Dad to look after.

I wish Mom had stayed at home with us. We would have learnt about things like baking and gardening, played word games, and gone to tennis parties. Oh, we did all those things, but not with Mom. We always had loads of friends, cousins and grand-parents on hand. In fact, the joke was that Mom never learned to cook because Granny never taught her - but she taught me. Granny taught me in the old-fashioned ways, a little of this, a pinch of that, stir it up with passion, and it will taste good. Nothing with any great finesse, but food from the soul.

Photo credit

Mom and I did discover a couple of things in common - our love for words and our love for gardening. Funny that, because Mom always considered herself to be far superior to me in both subjects. And she probably was, but I'm catching up. Mom would have loved to have blogged about her garden. I started my blog when Mom was ill and she never saw the tribute it has become. 

It's good to have a tribute to a loved one. It helps to remember the good times, and it's an evolving place to express your feelings. People who are interested will come to your blog. 

Oh, and one more thing - Mom had a clear sense right and wrong. Don't make promises you can't keep, do keep appointments, and always write a thank you note. On second thoughts, perhaps Mom taught me all the important things in life.

I've submitted this post for 'Celebrating Womanhood. Because Women Are Amazing'.

Celebrating Womanhood

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MOM WOULD HAVE LOVED THAT

We've been saying that a lot lately. Funny, but we used to say it a lot about Granny, too, as in, Granny would have loved that pudding. In the days and weeks after Mom died we were so overwhelmed by her illness and death, that I personally couldn't think of Mom as she was in the months and years before she got ill. Now, nearly fourteen weeks since Mom passed away, I am happy to say that Mom would have loved all sorts of things that we have been doing lately. She would have loved the current series of Strictly Come Dancing, especially Harry Judd. She would have loved watching Roger Federer win the ATP World Tour Finals. And she would have loved hearing about the wonderful black tie retirement dinner we went to on Friday night.

It was one of those unashamedly old-fashioned, understated posh events. There were some charming older men with their quiet wives, not in black tie but in smart suit. They represent a dying breed of professionals, loved and respected. I enjoyed meeting them. I was seated next to an eccentric chap, so bright he could be a little weird, but thoroughly entertaining in an anarchic sort of way. The food was delicious, no flash snails in porridge, simply smoked salmon, roast lamb and vanilla creme brulee. We were very satisfied. 

And then came the harpist. By Royal Appointment to HRH The Prince of Wales! She played beautifully and chatted about her travels with the Royals. Mom would have loved it.

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