Dear Mum,
There are so very many things I wish I could say to you. But it's too late now, the time has gone.
I'm so proud of you, a battle with cancer is no mean feat. A battle with terminal cancer is even harder. A battle with terminal cancer that has spread to your brain takes courage I can't even imagine.
I wish you'd held on though, just that little bit longer. I get married in 4 days. I wish you could have just held on those extra 19 days. Just so you could be there, so I could give you a kiss as a married woman and you'd know I was okay.
But I understand why. I understand why things happened they way they did. It might not have been your idea, but the universe clearly had other things in mind, and I'm sure where you are standing now it makes sense too.
That first night in the hospice after I left something in your body must have sensed I wasn't there, and that you were in good & safe medical hands and decided that was the time. Not what I wanted, or you, or anyone else. But it was logical. And objectively... the manner wasn't far from what you wanted either. You were laughing one day & gone the next. You fell unconscious and never woke up, just like you wanted. We could argue over location, but I think we'd agree you were in the best place at that time for the circumstance.
That morning, getting that call to come in, then phoning back for information for dad & grandad & finding out you were gone. That nearly broke me mum. I felt like I'd handed you over & they'd killed you. Me and you had managed everything for 3 months & they'd killed you in 1 night. I can see now how silly that was, but I was blind with anger and pain.
Getting to the hospice, talking to the nurse about what happened & then finally being allowed to see you, oh mum. That was the first real pain you couldn't cure for me. I sobbed like I would never ever stop. Small hands, smaller than dads held on to me and held my chest together when it felt like I would break apart and bleed to death. I was amazed when I turned to see grandad holding me, tears streaming down his face. He held me so firmly and so strongly it was like you holding me all those hundreds of times before. You were warm when I held your hand willing with every cell for you to squeeze mine back, not believing you were really gone. Trying to talk to you like normal, but nothing was normal anymore. You looked so dead and yet alive at the same time. Clearly dead, yet somehow maybe sleeping.
I was in and out of that room, phoning family & friends. Telling people over and over, crying and stopping then telling someone else and crying again. It became harder and harder to come back into you. Every time I came back you were paler, your lips darker, your fingertips more purple. I wanted to hold you, to scream and scream that it couldn't be right. NOT MY MUM! June asked me to give you kiss from her & I did before I left to get nanny, but you were growing colder then & I was frightened. My mum was never ever cold. You were ceasing to be my mum and becoming a body. But I squeezed you and kissed you & told you I loved you, but you couldn't answer me, couldn't hold me or hug me back. I've never felt so alone.
I managed to speak to a doctor who explained about the coroner's involvement. I couldn't stop myself asking him a stupid question of whether you suffered or were in pain. He explained to me you had fallen unconscious and suffered a seizure that you hadn't woken from. I then had to ask him an even stupider question, was he sure you were dead. He told me he would check if I wanted but he was sure. I'm sorry I asked him to check. I just needed to be sure, because my mum would never give in to a little thing like death. He was a wonderful doctor. Josh was his name, you would have liked him. He was gentle with my broken self.
After a few hours of being with you we decided to leave, you were becoming more and more frightening as you cooled and the signs of death I knew so well from my morbid interests in my teens became clearer and clearer. Also because we all knew you'd hate us just sat around staring at you. So we went back to mine, all of us. I took your phone so I could start calling people. I phoned Alison first, she was driving and had to pull over because she couldn't even speak. She's been so amazing mum, she's really been there for me. She's been down a few times, sent me a beautiful card, she texts me every couple of days. A-maz-ing.
Ruth has been amazing too. She came to see me, she phones and texts regularly. Everyone just pulled together in your absence.
I've had my fingers burnt a couple of times by liz and grandad while we've been clearing your house out. But I've kept my temper and carried on, you'd be proud. How odd it's taken your loss for me to finally rein it in with them. Maybe its because I understand more than most how people lash out when they're hurting and that gives me a bit more patience.
I sorted your funeral, it was just like you wanted. I managed to get up and read for you without even a wobble. I was amazed, but once I started it just carried on, I've read in public before and in a room filled with love and pain, it felt very easy to imagine you saying those words to us, especially the last part "you're coming home to me" I added on your little bit about remembering you with laughter and smiles, and that is how everyone remembers you mum. Everyone I talk to has a different story filled with laughter about you.
Anyway, I've nearly sorted everything that needs doing now, with the house & the funeral & your bank etc etc etc. Just a few things left to sort with Keith.
So I suppose you're all caught up on the last couple of weeks now. I've agreed to some counseling from the hospice, I know you'd approve and I honestly don't think I can deal with this alone. Something glitches when I try to process grief & this is too big to overcome alone. So I'll keep you updated on things.
Love you Mum, missing you xxx
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