Whilst my mum was in hospital after her stroke I spent practically all my time there, just popping home for a quick shower now and again, I felt the need to write down how I was feeling, for me this is a way of release. Below is a little something I wrote.
For four days I’ve watched my mum slowly dying. Wondering what it is she’s holding on for. Is it for my brother from Australia to arrive, is it because she wants to be alone? Is it because there’s something I/we’ve forgotten to say to her.
Mum’s always been a strong person always been a fighter, she’s had to, she’s not had the best life.
Taken from her family at 15, in the 1940s, eventually losing touch with them because she was seen as a traitor to her country and they were forbidden to write to her, forbidden by a government and its rules, and consequently never seeing them or hearing from them again. As time went on she met my dad, came to Scotland and had her own family. The four of us, my 3 brothers and me.
This wonderful lady adored her kids and always did the best she could with what she had, which again wasn’t an easy road for her to take.
As I lie here on her bed beside her my heartaches. I’ve told her so many times these last 4 days how much I love her, stroked her face, and touched her beautiful soft hair. We’ve all joked and laughed with her, not able to understand what we’re saying but hopefully able to hear us. And as I lie here just me and her I’m coaxing her to go, that it’ll be ok, she’ll see her family now.
We’ve all told her to go, to be at peace, she’s fought enough and there’s no need to keep fighting, I tell her some deep dark secrets. I play her messages from her great-grandchildren in Australia, some even FaceTime her.
Letting go is so hard but it’s the right thing to do.