To my dear friends at TP,
I would like to start by giving my heartfelt thanks for the unlimited and unconditional love and support you have given me over the past years. I can't imagine how I would have managed without you. I don't think my mum would have got Continuing Care funding; I don't think we'd have known what to look for in a good Nursing Home; we would have been so unprepared for what lay ahead, had it not been for you. All the times I was at my lowest, only certain people understood. I mean really understood. These people belonged to an exclusive world...known as Talking Point.
You are all different ages, at different stages, yet we all stood together, not defined by age or experience, but bound by love and concern for those who shared an illness.
I have never known support like it. The experience, advice and sometimes just simple words of support were my crutch. I was held up by every one of you, and at the end...I'm still standing. So, thank you.
My mum's funeral was beautiful, serene, peaceful, sometimes even funny. It was a huge outpouring of grief and loss, yet a day of shared memories and smiles. Mum's service was amazing, filled mostly with words from her best friend of 50 years (who collapsed in tears on the last sentence) and the words from her two daughters. It turns out the reading we chose (She Is Gone) was written for the Queen Mother, and the first time it was read was at her funeral. The vicar explained this during her service, and we had no idea. Quite fitting, I felt.
I murdered 2 hymns, but was determined to sing loudly and proudly. I also made a complete faux-pas during a prayer, when I thought he'd finished (turns out he was only pausing) and I very loudly said "Amen", only for him to continue the prayer! My sister accidentally snorted (instantaneous laughter snort), and there was a moment of complete inappropriateness (is that a word?). I realise now that tears and laughter are very close neighbours...and the line was shattered for that brief moment. Mum and Dad would have laughed. It was always ME who stuffed up!
But those tears I thought weren't coming? They came. And they didn't stop for a long time. It was such an emotional day for so many and it became very clear how fond people were of my lovely mum. She had made an impression on people and was missed by many.
But the burial I had been dreading was wonderful. It was the most beautiful part. It seemed so clear that mum and dad were finally resting, and that it was all over...in a good way. Dad's ashes were lowered down on top of mum's coffin, and I threw in a pale pink rose for mum and a cream rose for dad. My husband threw in the messages from the children. It was so gentle.
I let a tear or two roll down my cheek, and it was perfect.
I think the realisation that dad's been waiting for two years hit us at that point. He, too, was finally being laid to rest, by by mum's side, where he always was. We finally had a place to come. A place to be with them both. I can now go and talk to mum and dad again.
The reception was a place full of love and memories and we all shared stories, many of which I'd never heard, and it was a lovely end to a very emotional day. I had always feared losing my mum. Her funeral was an event I could never picture myself attending, but now that it's over, I can be sure she was very much loved by many.
I now feel a duty to carry on, out of respect for her and what she was fighting, and out of the strength she taught us. I aspire to be half the mother she was, and that alone would be amazing.
I now look forward to taking the family to my parents' resting place where a simple wooden cross has finally reunited them in name and in date. Both died 30th October, 2 years apart, now together again. I will take the children, lay some flowers for Christmas and go for a roast dinner at their favourite restaurant (where we held the reception).
I will make them proud by being the woman they wanted me to be.
Thank you, everyone, for so much. I will stay here for a while, and help if and when I think I can, and will definitely be right by the sides of friends who've seen me through to the end. I will be there for you too.
With much love and appreciation,
I would like to start by giving my heartfelt thanks for the unlimited and unconditional love and support you have given me over the past years. I can't imagine how I would have managed without you. I don't think my mum would have got Continuing Care funding; I don't think we'd have known what to look for in a good Nursing Home; we would have been so unprepared for what lay ahead, had it not been for you. All the times I was at my lowest, only certain people understood. I mean really understood. These people belonged to an exclusive world...known as Talking Point.
You are all different ages, at different stages, yet we all stood together, not defined by age or experience, but bound by love and concern for those who shared an illness.
I have never known support like it. The experience, advice and sometimes just simple words of support were my crutch. I was held up by every one of you, and at the end...I'm still standing. So, thank you.
My mum's funeral was beautiful, serene, peaceful, sometimes even funny. It was a huge outpouring of grief and loss, yet a day of shared memories and smiles. Mum's service was amazing, filled mostly with words from her best friend of 50 years (who collapsed in tears on the last sentence) and the words from her two daughters. It turns out the reading we chose (She Is Gone) was written for the Queen Mother, and the first time it was read was at her funeral. The vicar explained this during her service, and we had no idea. Quite fitting, I felt.
I murdered 2 hymns, but was determined to sing loudly and proudly. I also made a complete faux-pas during a prayer, when I thought he'd finished (turns out he was only pausing) and I very loudly said "Amen", only for him to continue the prayer! My sister accidentally snorted (instantaneous laughter snort), and there was a moment of complete inappropriateness (is that a word?). I realise now that tears and laughter are very close neighbours...and the line was shattered for that brief moment. Mum and Dad would have laughed. It was always ME who stuffed up!
But those tears I thought weren't coming? They came. And they didn't stop for a long time. It was such an emotional day for so many and it became very clear how fond people were of my lovely mum. She had made an impression on people and was missed by many.
But the burial I had been dreading was wonderful. It was the most beautiful part. It seemed so clear that mum and dad were finally resting, and that it was all over...in a good way. Dad's ashes were lowered down on top of mum's coffin, and I threw in a pale pink rose for mum and a cream rose for dad. My husband threw in the messages from the children. It was so gentle.
I let a tear or two roll down my cheek, and it was perfect.
I think the realisation that dad's been waiting for two years hit us at that point. He, too, was finally being laid to rest, by by mum's side, where he always was. We finally had a place to come. A place to be with them both. I can now go and talk to mum and dad again.
The reception was a place full of love and memories and we all shared stories, many of which I'd never heard, and it was a lovely end to a very emotional day. I had always feared losing my mum. Her funeral was an event I could never picture myself attending, but now that it's over, I can be sure she was very much loved by many.
I now feel a duty to carry on, out of respect for her and what she was fighting, and out of the strength she taught us. I aspire to be half the mother she was, and that alone would be amazing.
I now look forward to taking the family to my parents' resting place where a simple wooden cross has finally reunited them in name and in date. Both died 30th October, 2 years apart, now together again. I will take the children, lay some flowers for Christmas and go for a roast dinner at their favourite restaurant (where we held the reception).
I will make them proud by being the woman they wanted me to be.
Thank you, everyone, for so much. I will stay here for a while, and help if and when I think I can, and will definitely be right by the sides of friends who've seen me through to the end. I will be there for you too.
With much love and appreciation,
