Richard the Lion Heart has left the planet

My dear friend Cathi's dad left the planet at 4:00pm yesterday. Despite a long battle with cancer that stretched back at least 11 years that I know of, his constant quest for a cure and to remain in charge of his life was astounding, no one would wish this disease on anyone, but he dealt with it in a truly leoine style, hence the title of this blog, despite the fact his name was Peter. The planet is a more somber place without his positivity, he was making plans to enjoy the 2012 Olympics despite his physical health, never talking death but all the same preparing and making sure his loved ones will be provided for in the event of it. His daughter is full of his spirit, the greatest gift he could have left, which will see her through this truly heartbreaking time. Good luck my love and I am there for you. And to you Richard the lion heart, don't worry about your youngest, I'll keep my eye on here as you will too from above.

finding the joy again

I catch myself wallowing in my loss then suddenly hear the laughter of my children and am shocked that I can't share in their light hearted joy. It makes me feel so guilty, it's as if I'm under water, with all sounds and feelings muted,not quite connected with what's right in front of me. Today's been like that. this beautiful autumnal day that practically passed me by, though I was still aware of it's beauty even though I couldn't fully connect with it. There are days like this since you've been gone. Were we too close? Can I not claim back that piece of me that went when you went? Will my own children feel like this when I go? I hope not, may they remember the good and feast on that memory and know that I'll always be with them, may they in the face of grief draw strength from the love that's been given them, may they be strong in spirit and positive in thought.
May tomorrow bring back the good memories I forgot today.

3years 4months

Finally found my way back to this blog, thanks to a dear friend, I was somewhat lost in cyber space and emotionally tied up.
The more time slips by and my mothers death becomes more distant, I suddenly get thrown into contact with her final few hours. Her sister Rose administering to her in a true irish tragic style, over from Connemara for the final breath of precious life left to her sister, and Kay, my mothers dear friend and sister in law, wife to her favourite brother, trying to be the voice of reason, bringing the point home to me that my mother was mortal and close to death, me still believing in some small miracle that would save her at the final hour.
And then she went, we were all down stairs but Rose sensed it, the passing, then the macmillan nurses who had known her and shed a tear, came to organise her physical being for the next stage of the journey.
I see the man who took her from her bed and placed her in a bag often, in the supermarket , in his car,going about his business, there is often a side long glance between us a slight recognition of the precious body he took away from me, I wonder if he remembers all the faces of grieving relatives or if he is now immune to the raw emotion that his job entails.
The funeral parlour is being sold, it's called 'The caring lady funeral director', does that mean that she doesn't care any more? or is she off to Spain to grab some precious life before her time comes .

Appreciating the time we got

It's now been nearly 3 years, as of june 10th since my mother died.

The feeling of a giant wave of grief consuming me has passed for the most part, still get the occasional storm ,but now it's as if I've learnt to surf on that wave and can for the most part control it. The stinging pain as my children pass certain milestones still is there, how could they not be? she was taken away from them far too soon. Although Arthur, my 6 year old son often talks about her, and often laughs and blames her for inclement weather. Also, if he's reprimanded he will often say " I'm going to tell nanny you're being mean to me!" which I have to say , often causes my heart to miss a beat and question whether the scolding was too harsh! She made such an impression on him even though he was only 3 when she went. That ultimate kindness of the most perfect type of grandmother.

There are so many stories about her growing up in Greystones outside Dublin, despite the fact she contracted polio when she was only 3 and spent a majority of her youth in hospitals, the story that stick sin my mind is her coming down a hill on a bicycle full pelt, despite the fact her caliper wasn't designed to bend enough to ride a bike but she did it anyway, that's her in a nutshell 'She did it anyway' when told she'd never walk, never have kids? 'she did it anyway' and more. That spirit ran through the core of her whole life, she appreciated every last drop of life. I wish more people and some of my family included could identify and learn from such a spirit.

Thoughts of mum

I wrote this a month or so after my mother died.

I can look at a picture, a watercolour, a vase of daisies on a wooden table, the light dappled through and conjure up you. I miss you mum for all your curious and creative ways. The bank of memories I have to tap into is legendary in my mind. Measured against yourself, I fall short in my efforts, I don't have your streak of perfectionism and it makes me sad. When I'm angry and not coping I think of you and the way you'd deal with things and that compounds my sadness too. You would always fight on with a positive look and an ocean of patience. I wish I had that skill....I get there eventually, my own way because I'm still here, because life keeps happening and things can still make me happy for the future and the raising of my two lovely little boys and the life I have with Josh. I know you'd will me to stay positive and I promise I'll keep trying in memory of you and your strong spirit. Theres things I still need to achieve, I need to heal a bit more and use my memory to create a little bit of magic that you have bestowed upon me. I love you mum.