It’s been a long hard year without you. There has been so many times I’ve heard or seen something and thought “Oh I must tell Mom about that” and then it hits me that I will never be able to do that again.
I still have your name on my phone, so everytime Paul rings me, it comes up “Mom” calling – and for that split second – I forget.
I had a dream whilst sleeping during the day, after a nightshift. There was no one in the house, but I heard a noise downstairs. In my sleepy state I remember thinking “It’s alright, it’s only Mom” I then laid there and thought I better go downstairs and put the tv on for you – you would be bored sat down there on your own whilst I slept. I then thought I should get up, maybe take you into town to look round the shops but I was so tired and fell back to sleep. When I finally did wake up – and remembered – it made me so sad – so sad for every missed opportunity I had to spend time with you – I knew it was a dream – but I wished I had gone downstairs anyway – just in case.
On the brighter side, I don’t cry so much anymore – I know you would want us all to remember you with a smile on our face and laughter bubbling away inside. But every now and again, when I’m walking Peppa I look up to the sky and wonder where you’ve gone.
I can still hear your voice and your laughter. I can still feel your poor little hands in mine and how I was the only one you let cut your finger nails. Your hands were so twisted I would be laid on the floor nearly upside down to try and cut them – without cutting you.
I still haven’t been able to listen to our beloved Riverdance, but I think I will soon. That music was ours, our shared love – and I know you will be kicking your legs alongside me when I finally play it again x
I hope you can see us all and share with all our happy moments and support us through the tough times we’ve had. We’re all doing ok 😊
I love and miss you everyday – until I see you again – rest peacefully up your beautiful hills ❤️
I went to my lovely Auntie`s funeral last week. It was a beautiful service for a beautiful lady 🙂
The service was held at the same Crematorium as we had my Mom`s last year, but in the smaller of the two chapels. What really struck me was, at the end of the service, when they were playing her chosen music, the Minister went over to my Auntie`s Son and whispered gently “take your time, just sit and listen to the music, give me a sign when you feel able to leave and I`ll lead you out”. It was lovely, respectful and thoughtful.
When my Mom was cremated last year, we were in the larger of the Chapels, I appreciate this Chapel was the busier of the two, because I remember at the end of the service as her music started, the Minister opened up the doors and motioned for us to lead the congregation out almost immediately. My step-father and sister started to walk out. I was obviously very emotional and distraught but even in this state, I felt a great sense of injustice. This was “her music” our final moments with her – and I felt cheated and rushed.
I stood my ground 🙂 and I believe, subconsciously, refused to move. The congregation stood behind me, not really knowing whether to walk out or stay, I physically couldn`t move until I had heard at least a little of her beloved Riverdance. She would have howled with laughter at my behaviour, but joking aside, even now, I do feel cheated of her “last moment”.
I appreciate there was another grieving family behind us, also waiting to say their goodbyes to their loved one, however, this was me – saying goodbye to mine xx
I knew this photo would pop up on my “Facebook Memories” any time soon – I was dreading it – I knew it would make me cry and I don’t want to cry now.
This photo was me and my lovely Mom at Riverdance last November. For as long as I could remember, Riverdance was our shared love, something that had been on our bucket list for such a long time.
She was so bloody excited to be going – as was I 🙂 As soon as the music started, I began to well up with happiness, as soon as her little legs began to jig around in her wheelchair, the tears began 🙂
She rocked her wheelchair till she nearly dislodged the brakes and zoomed down the Theatre aisle to join them on the stage. Her painful arthritic hands clapped together, she sang, she cheered and generally behaved like a 12 year old at a One Direction concert 🙂
We left the Theatre with the music ringing in our ears.
This was to be my last special outing with her. Five weeks later she was admitted to hospital. We played Riverdance at the hospital. I hoped she would remember the joy of that evening.
She never came home again and left us on 21 March 2015.
The next time I heard Riverdance was at her funeral. I held everyone up from leaving the Service, I wanted to ensure she heard it all one final time, wherever she was.
I haven’t listened to it since that day last March, but I will, one day, and remember that beautiful memory of our last performance 🙂