My mother passed away peacefully a week ago on Saturday. I was there at the end,
and loved the time I spent keeping vigil, holding her hand, combing her hair and telling her I loved her, I also asked her to forgive me for the times I had been impatient with her. She was always loving, right to the end. She used to say: "I couldnt love you any more.." Everyone says what splendid care I gave her, but what I remember is my
being impatient with her. The times I told her off for things that she couldnt help doing. Eg, at one time she started banging her stick against our door , luckily not hitting the glass. I temporarily hid the stick for a while ( she was, up to the final illness, able to get around without it). She would say she was going to cry .Sometimes
she would say: Do you hate me? I never did, but I got frustrated at the unpredictability
of this bloody illness. Someone said to me it was like when a child is told off and says I hate you! I know this mentally but emotionally I feel fragile at times, and my mind goes back to these incidents.
2 days before she passed, while I was at her bedside, she took my hand and kissed it, as she would do at home.She was always an affectionate woman, sweet to the end. Talking about these memories, a neighbour said my mother probably would say there was nothing to forgive, but this is what I keep returning to in my thoughts.I know people will say I did well, but sometimes its hard to forgive yourself.
and loved the time I spent keeping vigil, holding her hand, combing her hair and telling her I loved her, I also asked her to forgive me for the times I had been impatient with her. She was always loving, right to the end. She used to say: "I couldnt love you any more.." Everyone says what splendid care I gave her, but what I remember is my
being impatient with her. The times I told her off for things that she couldnt help doing. Eg, at one time she started banging her stick against our door , luckily not hitting the glass. I temporarily hid the stick for a while ( she was, up to the final illness, able to get around without it). She would say she was going to cry .Sometimes
she would say: Do you hate me? I never did, but I got frustrated at the unpredictability
of this bloody illness. Someone said to me it was like when a child is told off and says I hate you! I know this mentally but emotionally I feel fragile at times, and my mind goes back to these incidents.
2 days before she passed, while I was at her bedside, she took my hand and kissed it, as she would do at home.She was always an affectionate woman, sweet to the end. Talking about these memories, a neighbour said my mother probably would say there was nothing to forgive, but this is what I keep returning to in my thoughts.I know people will say I did well, but sometimes its hard to forgive yourself.