A Life only Half Lived

A few days after Mum passed away, after a short battle with cancer, I kissed her forehead as she lay in state in the funeral parlour.  I was shocked at how cold she was.  It was then I realised that physically she was my mother no more and her pain had eased.  

In two days time Mum would have been 80 years old but sadly she lived only to be 53, a life half lived indeed.

But what of my mother?  Sadly time and life have eroded half my memories, unlike others who knew her well.  I think the first living memory I have of Mum was when I was about 5 and going to school in Invercargill.  I recall her seeing me off from our house and waving to me as I walked the short distance.  I always then remembered a kind, loving wonderful person and she would always be that, to her dying days.

But yes, she was shadowed by difficulties too, always.  The loss of our brother and her third son, Dad's illnesses, and the constant moving around the country, until settling in Palmerston North.  She didn't have big shoulders, but she did have a big heart and a more than capable head on her shoulders.  She survived all her life, until she could survive no longer.

It was Mum that steered us children into our lives, through diligence, love, humour, and endeavour.  It was Mum that made sure we dressed nicely, looked clean and tidy, were fed, and exercised.  It was Mum that stood on the sidelines in your chosen sports, went to parent teacher interviews, taught us to sew and knit and crochet.  

But it was also Mum that sat in her corner in the lounge at Ruamahanga, whether ironing, playing canasta, having a smoke and a tipple, or watching Coro. And always banter.  Even when tired and sore after another hard days work on her feet, there was always banter.

What did I learn from the short time I knew her (yes I left home at 16 and only saw her a handful of times before she died).  I learnt that one never judged another.  I learnt that conflict resolution was better than a shouting match.  I learnt to smile in the face of adversity.  I learnt that Love is stronger than anything in the world, even when the face in front of you displays otherwise.  I learnt to respect all people and all things.

Mum was an unsung hero to me.  I know she touched many lives with her love and generosity and good humour, her funeral suggested that.  Well respected, well  liked, and loved by all that knew her.  I loved her too and I never knew how much until that final cold kiss.  Outwardly I never cried when she died, I guess I had to be the rock for others.  But I do know a door closed in my heart and to an extent in my mind. I have a picture or two of her on my mantle piece. One of her as a young nurse before we bairns came along.  And one of her standing defiant in her favourite Pink Tracksuit at Castlepoint.  Both are just pictures suggesting who she was.  I know who she was, she was the woman that saved my life.

God bless Mum, hope you're having a flutter and a sly tipple in that Irish Heaven.  Today your kiss warmed a little.