Posted by: Joan Spiller | May 2, 2010

My Mum died just before Xmas, Pt III

After Mum was (what? Picked up? Collected? Removed? Bloody hell..) ripped away from us as we stood watching, wondering and freaking out  .. we decided to head back to Nature’s Way and “do stuff”. Considering it’s the wee small hours of the morning, not sure what we planned but then again: not sure we were really thinking straight, to be fair.

Backing up a little bit, this is gonna sound strange to insert into this theme but one of the neatest things about my Dad is how strong he is. And always has been. One day I’ll post a few thoughts on “My Dad” and you’ll be able to gag your way through what will very quickly turn into a Dad Fan Club post but for now: I remember at some point through the hours we spent in the driveway at Mum’s friends place looking around and not seeing Dad..

So I got up and went to find him and there he was, standing, sobbing helplessly against his car out the back of the house / out of sight 😦  That was the hardest hug I’ve ever had in my life time..

Without sounding harsh, I guess I always ‘expected’ Mum to die before Dad. I admit, I sure as hell didn’t expect it to be THIS soon but I kind of knew Dad would end up on his own. I had this picture in my mind of him stumping around the farm on his own, the place completely over grown and wild – and Dad as happy as he could be, in the circumstances.. Tis fair to say he’d probably considered this as part of his future but no doubt hoped it was not gonna be something he had to deal with THIS young.

Mum and Dad have been together for over 40 years. Mum was 62. Dad a few months younger. Too young to die. No doubt about that.

And of course for Dad: just plain too young – as he now faces the next 35yrs (based on Spiller family genes: he’ll be around for easily that many more years) alone. But I digress. This was just meant to be an aside on how incredibly sad it is to see one’s Dad sobbing at the loss of his adored wife.
And how he adored her 🙂

Anyway, once back at NW (the family home) we sat there in a daze..
Rum and coke in one hand, pieces of paper and pens in the other.
Why pens and paper?
Sorry but the Project Manager in me came out: we had much to organise and not much time in which to do it!

So.. the funeral planning commences.

How does this work exactly?
One minute I’m tucked up in my warm bed asleep.
A few hours later I’m jotting down names of relatives and people who need to be informed of Mum’s death and trying to imagine what on earth sort of funeral she’d want.
(If one can “want” their own funeral?!?)

Life sure is fragile.

They say we’re meant to break our blog entries into “manageable” chunks else people will not read them. This is bordering on becoming too long.
So do I stop here and write another entry later or do I carry on?

One of life’s big decisions in today’s sound-byte / lack of attn world.


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