My mum
My mum was something else. I've read loads of stories of mums doing heroic deeds and suchlike. I certainly wouldn't put my mum in that category, but she was a wonderful woman nonetheless.

She was married to my dad for 41 years. If you knew my dad you'd appreciate what a feat that was. He was grumpy, opinionated, lazy, stubborn - all the characteristics of the stereotypical working northern man.

She loved him though - for all his faults - and just got on with it. My dad worked, my mum looked after the house and raised me and my sister almost single-handedly. That was the deal. She changed every nappy, wiped every tear, packed me off to school every day with a clean shirt and a packed lunch, and hid the truth from my dad if I'd been naughty - because she knew what the consequences would have been.

She was a quiet woman, not terribly sociable - not because she was unfriendly, but just shy, with little self-confidence due to my father's constant put-downs.

My dad died of cancer in late 1999, after a long, drawn out illness. His retirement and subsequent illness had changed him though - for the good - as the lack of work-related stress made him a calmer, nicer person to know. More of a dad and a husband in fact.

His death left my mum alone, 100 miles from either myself or my sister. We were both keen to move her closer to either one of us - myself in Edinburgh, or my sister in Glasgow. 100 miles away from us, in a big house, and with few friends wouldn't be much of a life for her. She stubbornly resisted though, refusing to budge, not wanting to be a burden to us, and still visiting my dad's grave on a weekly basis.

A couple of years back she became unwell. One chest infection after another, and courses of antibiotics that seemed to have little effect, finally persuaded her that perhaps a move would be the best thing for everyone.

My sister and I did everything we could to limit the stress of the move. She was in her 70s and not used to a big project such as a house move. We dealt with the solicitors, the surveyors, and the removal company. She bought a house near my sister, and we managed to finally sell hers after some effort. Her health improved as well. Things were looking up.

I took a couple of days off to help her move. I went down there, supervised the removal team, cleared up the last few things, cleaned the house from top to bottom, ferried crap to the tip, and packed my mum's final few things and drove them and her to her new home.

A team of us did the graft at the other end. We sat mum down and we got on with it. Me and my 2 kids, my sister, her husband, and their 3 kids - a huge squad of us - cleaning, unpacking boxes, hoovering, dusting, painting, laying carpets, and fixing tiles. We made sure that my mum didn't have to lift a finger. She just told us where she wanted everything to go.

She moved in on the Friday. The following Wednesday night she had a massive heart attack and died.

My father's death was a terrible, protracted, drawn out affair - truly horrible. To see a big man wither and die over the space of 5 years was traumatising for all of us. But to lose our mum so suddenly, without being able to say goodbye, was equally horrific.

She was buried the following Friday. The following day would have been my mum and dad's Golden wedding anniversary.

I didn't get the chance to tell her how much I loved her. Love you mum x.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Wed 17 Feb 2010, 10:59, 5 replies)

I don't want to say 'I like this!'
Because I don't like this.

She sounds great, and well done to you, your sis and the kids for helping her.

*click*
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Wed 17 Feb 2010, 11:32, closed)

I count myself lucky...
...that I can tell my Mum exactly that, as often as I'm able. On the flipside, my Dad died with very similar unfinished business on the table, so I also know how you feel.

It messed up my head for awhile, along with one or two other related factors, until someone suggested that I write him a letter. It took several days and a fair few tears to finish it, but it took a great weight off me. No-one has ever read it, and no-one will. I keep it now on a microSD card sealed in resin. I mean to turn it into something I can wear one day, but for the moment I carry it around in what my best friend affectionately calls my man-bag.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Wed 17 Feb 2010, 11:44, closed)

*wipes "bit of dust" from eyes*

*clicks*
( Moey, Wed 17 Feb 2010, 11:58, closed)

Well,,
Im very sure with all the effort you put in with moving, helping her and compassion compelling you to look after her with little regard to yourself would have told her all she needed to know. She sounds awesome, as do you.
(MissFlee tried again on, Wed 17 Feb 2010, 13:45, closed)

Thank you missflee...
...and thanks everyone.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Wed 17 Feb 2010, 14:17, closed)