Last week we said goodbye to Mum’s much loved sister. I will never forget shared fly cups as a wee girl; visits where she would howl with laughter as my Uncle removed his teeth and chased a petrified younger me round the garden.
On the morning of her funeral I drank the first of many coffees of the day. As I watched the birds fly from feeder to feeder I noticed a last rose had unexpectedly blossomed in my garden. It seems the best was saved until last.
Nothing beautiful lasts forever but I think death teaches us to appreciate and love those we treasure that little bit harder.
We haven’t told Mum of her loss as we know it would be too much for her to take. She would be heartbroken, only to forget and ask after her sister just as quick; just as she does for Dad. I can’t bear to repeatedly break her heart. On such a sad day that unexpected late blossom on a tree that we thought was done for the year seemed poignant. I decided there and then to pick this rose and take it to Mum; as silly as it sounds it felt like my aunts way of saying one last goodbye.
On Wednesday, after school, we took a cycle up to Mum’s care home to give her the blossom. I couldn’t face breaking her heart with the truth so I told her it was from her sister. Her face lit up, I love how much she appreciates such a small gesture.
Normal service was resumed when she had us all in stitches trumping her way along the corridor; blaming an appalled Caleb whilst Eden and Noah couldn’t control their giggles, much to Mums bewilderment. We decided to make the most of the sunny afternoon and take mum out in a wheelchair to watch the kids play in the park. We didn’t make it out of the grounds before Mum was ready for her caramel eclair.
After a hard few weeks, I gazed as my 3 babies race to the equipment, the sun framing their silhouettes and felt a rush of love. I glanced at my Mum’s delighted wee face soaking in all the colours of summer: the heat from the sun, the birds cheerful songs, the wagging dog tails, the park full of the happiness of playing children. Appreciating and commenting on each small detail we so often miss whilst navigating our way through the busyness and stresses of everyday life.
Mum too was absorbed in the kids racing and shouted with pure joy “look at Sunbeam go, she’s flying.” Time stood still and she saw only me. Her little girl. “Look at Sarah’s legs go, she’s going to catch that bairn.” I looked at the happiness radiating from her frail frame and realised i was already bottling up this moment as a future memory to treasure.
Sometimes it’s the unplanned trips that bring back long forgotten memories. My Mum has never been one to bite her tongue or hold back and she’s never cared much for tact. As a child i knew her boundaries, as a teen I feared her sharp critiques and even when I became a Mother myself I wasn’t beyond a telling off; she isn’t one not to be listened to. It makes me laugh now to think of visiting her one weekend from uni and her making her disgust known for my boots. Not her taste and she didn’t hold back, “cheap tat”; to be fair on reflection she was spot on but back then they were all I could afford and I loved them. She ripped them apart with her opinions and when that didn’t work I woke the next morning to a buckled heel, that had clearly been snapped off. Mum with her eyes sparkling claimed it must have been the dog!!
Whilst she was a force to be reckoned with if you crossed her, now sat on the sidelines together she reminded me there is no one I would rather have in my corner. As we watched the kids play in the park it became quickly apparent why I always got a go during my childhood as Mum loudly made her opinions known. Heckling any parent whose child wasn’t behaving appropriately, being black affronted at “that idiot who is far too big for the flying fox”, (the idiot being my husband) and shaming any child preventing Eden (who she thought was me) from getting her rightful turn on the equipment!!
The all up hill climb back to her care home had me in stitches as she sat like lady muck telling Matt to get moving whilst his calf’s and glutes put in a shift to the point where he was sweating at the top. Only for Mum to spot a police car.
Mum has always been fiercely proud of being a former police woman, growing up it was near impossible to get anything passed her. She never missed a trick from me or Dad. Dad often angry at his plans being thwarted and exasperated having been caught in the act, frequently with an extra beer in hand used to say “Pc Walker strikes again!” But his eyes gave away a twinkle that said he wouldn’t have it any other way. They bickered their way through married life like Jack and Vera on Coronation Street but she kept him on his toes and he knew he would be lost with out her.
Anyway, Mum was on a mission, sat like the Queen of Sheba she was determined to get the police cars attention. Completely oblivious to Matt’s aching limbs and shift to reach the top of the hill she insisted he get moving as it was “her pal in the constabulary” content only when she had gave the bewildered policewoman her royal wave!
Slowly losing someone you love and watching them decline at the hands of Dementia and Alzheimer’s is heartbreaking. But watching someone age is a lovely lesson in: how precious time is, finding the beauty in everyday, unapologetically being yourself and appreciating those that love you flaws, faults, farts and all.
Happiness is a Sunbeam 