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My mum a tribute
I went to my mother's funeral yesterday. After not being sick a day in her eighty years she started coughing a few weeks ago so we called an ambulance and they took her to hospital and she never came out.
I wanted to post a tribute to her but I realised I'd already done it. On this blog on the 20th April 2010 Johan asked "Who is the greatest cricketer you have had the pleasure of watching in your lifetime?" and this was my response. I gave it the header of "Mother Knows Best"
"My fondest childhood memory involving sport is the time my mum dragged me along to the MCG. She had asked me if I'd like to go to the cricket and see Gary Sobers bat. I recall saying, "He's 139 not out. How many do you think he's going to make?"
He ended up making 254 in a knock later described by Don Bradman as "the best inning ever played in Australia."
Once he passed 200 it was as though he decided to put on a show, not only for the huge crowd but (apparently) also for his opposition. It was like watching a magician perform tricks he'd only just invented.
My strongest recollection of the day (apart from the reaction of the crowd) is how the ball would rebound all the way back to the pitch from the concrete gutters that formed the boundary. As young as I was I knew I was seeing something incredible."
I also wanted to post this sentiment I found among the comments while watching the youtube clip for Alone Again Naturally. Someone called Skynyrdtim wrote...
"You don't know what real lonliness is until your parents die. Trust me, treasure your parents while they are alive. You will miss them every day after they're gone and you'll never fill the void they leave with their passing."
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Sorry to hear you lost your mum.
I hope more wonderful memories shine through your sadness.
As my wise cousin
said to me when my mother died just over three years ago - "you'll never get over it, but you will get past it". I had a real feeling of desolation at the time, even though I was pleased she would no longer suffer, but thankful for all the love, wisdom and good food. Think of the good times and then chuckle to yourself when you find yourself saying and thinking things she would have said.
My condolences, Cookieboy.
That was a lovely post. I hope you and yours are OK.
I think..
..I'll drop in on the folks on the way home.
Let the tears flow
I made the mistake of reading your lovely tribute while streaming tracks from Kate Bush's Director's Cut. I spent some time with my mum yesterday, taking her for a MRI scan. Women are amazing. How do they manage to do everything and know how to do tasks that we feeble men are incapable of doing.
Sorry for your loss
I can´t remember who said it but ," When you lose your parents, you realise that you can´t go home anymore " is one of the saddest and truest things I´ve ever heard.
lovely post
May you be well!
I lost my mum..
on Christmas eve just gone and it's still very raw for me. I wish you and yours well at this awful time in your life.
Doug B and Cookieboy
Really sorry to hear that and good thoughts to you both.
Take care. xx
Sincere condolences
I am lucky that my parents (82 & 80) are still around, but I see nowhere near enougth of them. You never really get over something like this, but I know from the time I lost my Nan that as time passes you remember the great times you had more and more. I wish you well and thank you for your lovely post.
I lost my Mum
I lost my Mum a couple of months ago.
It wasnt a surprise, but still horrible.
I agree with FBW, you dont get over it, you get used to it.
A cliche I know, but grieving takes time. Bereavement is horrible, it never stops, & its exhausting.
My sympathy & thoughts are with you.
If I Could Go Back...
I would tell my Mum how much I love her, how much she means to me, and how much her influence on me shaped me into the person that I am today. Oh, and Marion, I am sorry for being such a grade one twat sometimes... it's just the hormones!
I never did any of these things when she was alive. Then one day she was gone.
Twenty+ years have now passed... there is not one day
that passes that I do not think about her.
My Dad
Died in 97 and I miss him every day. At that point I realised I had no one I could turn to and always get an answer, even if it wasn't always the one I wanted but invariably was the one I needed. It comes as a shock to discover you're supposed to grow up at some point.
My Dad died
when I was in my early thirties and my Mum three years ago just before my 50th birthday.It suddenly dawned on me that I was now the older generation in my family.As Twang says above you have to grow up.
Time passes and you get used to how things are but cherish what you have whilst you have it.
Sympathies to you Cookieboy and all who have lost someone dear to them.
So sorry
to hear of your loss. You are among friends here. This past week I have been thinking of mortality - went to the funeral of a friend last week - he was 59 - only 5 years older than me. Got to the stage where many funerals now will be of people of the same generation which is a new and unwanted phenomenon. My dad was diagnosed with bowel cancer around 8 weeks ago now but is still waiting for his operation as the anaesthetist is not happy with his breathing. My mother in law is deteriorating on a daily basis and will go into a rest home in the near future.All around me there seems to be depressing news. I gave my dad a copy of the tribute I paid to him on this site - he cried. Why couldn't I tell him? I have regrets about things I should have said and didn't - your tribute to your mum was very moving and the fact she had such an influence on your life is something that will endure.
I'm glad you showed your dad that, Steve.
It was beautifully put, and it's no wonder he was touched. I hope he's able to have his op soon.
(If you missed it, Steve's piece was here, and is well worth a few minutes of your time).
Thanks to all
for the kind words. After not sleeping for the previous two weeks I've not been able to keep my eyes open since the funeral.
I read Steve's tribute to his ailing father and I was struck by how similar it was to the service for my mum.
She was born in 1930 which means she grew up during the depression and then World War Two and was orphaned at age 8 and raised by her step-mother, who being a widow would have had it very tough herself. She never once complained about how harsh her childhood had been saying, "In those days you just had to get on with things." My brother and I made sure all that was included in the eulogy and I'm glad we did.