My Dad

Since the last post, quite a lot of water has gone under the bridge.

When Mum died, for quite a long time my Dad would cry when he was talking about her.  He missed her terribly.

After struggling on bravely for a while, on the 24th of September he passed away at home.

At the time of his death, he was recovering from a broken hip, he couldn't see very much, he couldn't breath without regular help from a machine, he had various inflammations and was feeling very lonely.
On balance, it's fair to say that he felt that it was time to go...perhaps to meet up with Mum.  I hope so.

Go well Dad.

Happy Birthday Mum

It would have been Mum's birthday a couple of days ago, and I've been really missing her.  Thought i'd post this drawing from a photo by my brother Nick.  It's a bit more like how she looked, than the photos of her more recently....when she was getting weak.  She always looked proud when she was with her kids...!

She was getting frail by the time this image was taken, but still herself if you know what I mean.  

Bless her.  

My Mum

For some time now, I've been meaning to make an entry to this blog.  The main reason that I've not done so is that I felt that I needed to write something about my Mum, who passed away six weeks ago, and I didn't really feel ready to write it.

The thing is, she was a very beautiful person, immensely important in my life, my family’s life, and probably quite significant in many of the people’s lives that knew.

Sad it is that she’s gone, but it’s also good.  She had a very painful cancer at the end, and she’d been in pain with crap legs for years before.  She was always stalwart with adversity, preferring to view life through a filter that was set to only allow the positive to dwell in her consciousness.

It is this filter, the ability to view life as an adventure regardless of how mediocre it may be, that I have been blessed to inherit from her, and which I’m doing my level best to pass on to my own kids.  That perspective alone has allowed me to overcome all manner of hardships in my own life, and truly ‘live’ it as if (like her) I needed nothing more.  Yes, she always dreamt of winning the pools, and for years she did the thing religiously for the ‘pools man’ who came around on a Saturday night, but it would have been icing on an already perfect cake for her (she’d have just divvied it up around the family)  She was the epitome of motherhood.

Looking back, even the uncertainty that I felt of myself when I was a teen and in my twenties was only confusion from the conflicting messages that I was getting from other people about what they wanted me to be.  My identity was never really something that I questioned.  I KNEW I was OK because she’d always made me feel that way.  NO QUESTION.  I knew I wasn't gorgeous, or particularly clever, or better than other people in some significant way …but I knew that I was OK because she constantly made me feel like that I was, and that OK meant everything I needed to be.

Secure in that certainty, and with my filter up and running, I have been lucky to be, for the most part, very happy indeed.  OK, I've had some good breaks too… like being a father to 4 wonderful kids and I'm married to my soul-mate, but I put a big slice of the responsibility for my happiness on my Mum.
Thanks for 'setting me up' so sweetly Mum.  I’ll always hold you in my heart, as you always did me in yours.

This picture of Mum's hands was taken a couple of weeks before she died.  When I look at them I just feel warmth and remember how gentle they were.  

Profile of passion?

When we had the first scan at the hospital to check on the progress of the unborn Matilda, we were struck by her profile, in particular by her lips.  I think we still have the scan somewhere.  The picture below is so like it....even now.  Both her face and her personality were apparent from even before she was born.   Always poking and kicking.....pushing against boundaries.  

Today we went rock climbing again.  We go every two weeks.  She's doing black climbs now....it's such a kick to see her leap to a hold that is a stretch for an adult....and has barely enough to grip onto....and see her shimmy up, lifting her whole body weight on her tiny little fingers.  

What's in a name eh? 

Fer coffee....

Just was thinking...and thought I'd share this:

Joe, you probably don't remember this, but that white container is an enamelled metal one that you gave us a few years ago.  It's been for coffee since, and lives in the freezer....and EVERY time I use it, which is several times a day, I think of you.  Just wanted to say.... and say thanks.