Posted by: Joan Spiller | April 26, 2014

Time: It really just dulls the pain

There’s no healing. That’s the conclusion I drew this morning into a tearful coffee, when I very unexpectedly had an “I miss my Mum” moment. Unexpectedly because I had not been thinking about her, had been busy feeding animals and pottering around happily ..

Chores done, I stopped to make my coffee and boom: I’m standing crying while trying to make beautifully silky milk.
And yes, the coffee suffered!

If I am honest – and at the risk of sounding like a total kook, I was staring out the window at the trees lining my place and saw a shape that reminded me of Mum when she was in her late teens. It’s a fave pic (sadly, I do not have it – but I well recall it) of her standing on a beach, hair blowing in the breeze with a laughing smile on her face. Mum was very enigmatic and shy, so a big smile was quite rare. Dad took the pic and there is no doubt about her happiness in the shot.

Which made me then look outside at my hens perched on their little table and chair set up next to their cute hen house.. thru the other window (all from my coffee machine) Billy and Josh were head butting each other while Sam watched on .. my magpie was outside feeding on some bread & butter ..

Inside, Abby and Roxy were wrestling in the lounge and a cat was threading her way through my legs waiting for her bowl of warm milk.

Then it hit me how much I wished I could show Mum my little slice of the planet. She’d have loved being here. She would have whipped a garden up out of nothing and then at the end of the day, she’d have gone to sit in the goat paddock with a cat on her lap, watching the dogs terrorising the goats .. okay she’d need a large pot of tea and some scones – then she would have been 100% content.

In part, I suspect the reason this whole thing makes me so sad is that she never got to experience a lot of the things she would have loved, because of various things that happened through her life and marriage. Dad didn’t allow animals in the house, it was one of his many house rules!

When I think back to the days before her death, when Mum was obviously ailing, for all none of us knew .. she would go home from work and sit on her fave chair and nap .. how she would have loved to have had one of her cats asleep on her lap then. What comfort that would have been for her..  And Max, her silly little dog that adored the ground she limped on – he’d have loved to be on her lap too! Instead he would sleep under the house where ever she happened to be. Anything to be close to his “Mum”.

Ah well..

I know I’ve said all this sort of stuff before, in previous posts. So am unsure quite why I am writing this .. I guess it’s better than bottling it up?

Maybe I want someone to reassure me it does stop hurting one day?

Hell, it’s not like she died last week it’s been a few years now .. but truthfully? I really dunno if it does stop, so much as you just try not to think about it.. or you only think of the nice things that were part of their life and yours ..

Either way, I wish she was alive and happily pottering around enjoying this place like I do. And I miss her.


And on that cheery note, I think I will try and make myself another coffee without ruining it this time ..

NB This pic is of Mum on my 5th birthday.





  1. Its been nearly 20 years since my mum passed at a way too young 54. The good news is the sadness comes less often, the bad news is that it still comes. Usually the same sorts of triggers, my mum never got to meet my kids, due to a hard life, she never got to travel overseas and her passing was a particularly cruel illness. There is no doubt that mums absense dulls some high points in my life, but all the same, I know I wouldn’t be who I am today without her influence growing up and the remnants of her voice in my head today.

    Missing mum is a sadness, but a sadness lined with happy memories and tremendous respect.


    • Thanks Greg, that was a really interesting comment. 20 years seems so long ago, nice to know I’m not abnormal feeling weird only a few years on. And you’re right re who you are (and I think you’re kinda neat, so she was clearly a wise lady!) I like the “lined with happiness” comment, may even steal it ..


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