Year: 2024

Wishing you a season filled with warmth, joy, and the magic of togetherness. May your days be merry, your nights peaceful, and the year ahead full of promise and happiness. Here’s to a festive season that shines bright with kindness and goodwill!

Thanks ChatGPT!

But seriously, I hope you all have a peaceful time, can reflect on the good things that happened this year, make your peace with the bad, and find a way through the festive season however you can.

It was my Mum’s funeral this afternoon.

A huge turnout at the crematorium, and so many thoughtful messages made it oddly easier to get through the day than I thought it would. My Mum touched many lives with her thoughtful spirit and generous approach to life.

I even managed to say a few words about her.

I know I’m not the first person to stand here and say that they struggled to find the words needed to encapsulate a life.

 

So… let’s start with the basics.

 

Mum was: 

a dutiful daughter

a protective sister

a loyal friend

a loving wife

a thoughtful aunt

a caring mother

a doting grandmother

 

Then, perhaps I could use some of the words others have kindly used to describe Mum? Formidable, talented, kind, loyal, cheeky, generous, stubborn, giving, fun and muxh more. 

 

Many of you highlighted her resilience and grace in how she dealt with the effects of her stroke. In some ways her attitude was just an extension of how she lived life, when it was good you enjoyed it, when it wasn’t, you just got on with it. She even found a quote for it; as Samuel Beckett once said: “I must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” To Mum, resilience was just part of her humanity, a resource she tapped into as and when she needed. Formidable indeed.

 

What else to say? Maybe I should talk about her hobbies, the arts and crafts she enjoyed; calligraphy, jewellery making, rug making, cross-stitching, crocheting, embroidery and … of course …   her beloved knitting. Did you know that some of her designer knitting was sold by Macy’s and Ralph Lauren?

 

I must talk of her beloved garden in Barloan Crescent, the lovingly selected plants, the pilfered cuttings, and the long hot summers where we’d play badminton over the clothes line, eat snacks in the “Jennie House” Mum made, or just lie on blankets on the grass, enjoying the hum of the insects and birds in the early evening sun after school. 

 

Ohhh how Mum loved the sun, should I talk about all their holidays? Where would I start?! Ile de Re,  Lake Garda, the cruises, camping in France… too many places to count.

 

I should mention her generosity; She always had an eye out for wee mindings for people, and a unique knack for spotting presents to be bought from the most unexpected places, storing them away for upcoming birthdays.

 

And it wasn’t always things being bought. For a few years I think every new baby in Dumbarton, and further afield, received a personalised, hand-knitted, tank-top. I can still remember the year she knitted seven tank-tops, for seven new babies, all called Lindsay, and each one was  spelled differently. Now, Mum loved a puzzle so I’ll leave you to figure that out.

 

Mum was always busy, always with a project of some sort on the go, always with something she wanted to do for someone else, rarely putting herself first.    In fact, it was a standing family joke that Mum was always last, a joke retold over and over as, more often than not, when we ate out as a family somehow hers was always the last meal to arrive at the table.

 

There are too many memories to mention but some stand out; the Hens – the collective of her closest friends of 67 years – who met regularly, their cackling ia vivid memory for Jennie and I. Her love of music, starting with her discovery of a small band called The Beatles (who were supporting Roy Orbison the first time she and Doris saw them), the omnipresent piano, the singing in choirs, and the constant stream of singer/songwriters that were a backdrop to many a drive to Grans house Rutherglen.

 

It’s hard to know where to stop. There were jigsaws, and nursery committees, old movies and library books, the Inner Wheel, there were choirs, and quizzes, and Coronation Street, and musicals, and George Clooney, and lots and lots of coffee and cake with Dad.

 

Yes, it’s been hard to try and sum up a such a full life, especially one lived so vividly.

 

But there is one thing that Jennie and I realised will always remind us of Mum, and we think those that know her well, will agree. 

 

It’s something that has been passed down to us and a thing I unwittingly used whilst trying to figure out what to say today. 

 

There I was pondering old memories, jotting down random thoughts, trying to let my mind wander in the hope of finding some way to collate the essence of Mum and, after a few moments, I sat back to look at what I’d written, and the answer was right in front of me.

 

I’d written a list.

 

Ohhhh how Mum loved a list.

 

Christmas morning meant stockings to unpack and presents to unwrap BUT not until Mum was there to make a list of who gave us what, a list she’d then present back to Jennie and I on Boxing Day, before sending us to our rooms to write our thank you notes.

 

Spring time in Barloan Crescent meant lists (plural!) for the next big project in the garden, Dad and I rolling our eyes as Mum came up with yet another rockery to build… 

 

And through all her various placements at different primary schools there were lists of lesson plans, class activities, and school reports to write.

 

Holidays meant lists of things to pack, lists of places to visit, lists of who to buy souvenirs for… 

 

And rifling through old notebooks of hers just the other day I found yet more lists; craft projects that will never be started, lists of books that won’t be read, lists of presents that won’t get bought for people she will no longer visit… 

 

So. many. lists.

 

And it’s no wonder really, with a life as full as hers, that she had to use lists to keep things organised and on track. 

 

Because one thing that Mum hated, and as she used to remind me ‘hate’ is a very strong word, Mum hated letting people down, so anything or anyone she deemed important was added to a list so she wouldn’t forget.

 

If you were ever the beneficiary of any small item of joy, any offer of help, or if she ever assisted you in the past then you should know that at some point you featured in one of her lists and there is no higher honour I can offer you.

 

Mum was many things to many people:

a dutiful daughter

a protective sister

a loyal friend

a loving wife

a thoughtful aunt

a caring mother

a doting grandmother

   

And THAT list is the one that should live on in our hearts as we remember her, and do our best to honour her by living our lives the way she did. Without fuss, with humility, but always with a sense of humour.

When my Dad died, as it was the tail end of COVID restrictions, arranging his funeral was both much easier and much harder than I thought it would be.

Easier because we were limited to 18 people at the service and no ‘gathering’ afterwards. Harder because I had to sit 6 feet away from my Mum throughout the service. Harder because of the number of people who lined up outside but had to remain distanced and masked. Easier because, we realised in hindsight, that my Dad wouldn’t have wanted a fuss so he’d probably have preferred it this way anyway.

Mum passed suddenly last week (peacefully but it wasn’t expected) and so the wrecking ball of grief has dropped straight into our busy lives, making the dizzying effect of switching from work, to home, to “dealing with Mum” all the more bewildering as my sister and I plan her funeral and start to consider all the administrative tasks required.

Given we also need to consider what to do with the remaining contents of her flat before we get it ready to sell (ahh the joys of probate), and it’s been a different experience from when we said goodbye to Dad.

I was working at home when he passed and so could flex and adjust hours and days to be there for Mum and handle most of the organising of both his funeral and her life without him. Thankfully my parents were sensible and I was already, legally, executor of their estate. My Dad a lot of the ‘bills and house’ stuff so I took that on for Mum.

Since then, 5 years have passed and while Mum did do a lot of decluttering, there is still a lot of things to go through in her flat, a process we’ve started already, finding memories I didn’t even know existed; letters from my Dad to my Mum whilst she was in hospital for an extended stay just before my sister was born. For a man who didn’t speak his emotions, it was startling and moving to read him laying his heart open to Mum in the letters, written late at night after ‘Gordon’ was asleep he talks of how much he misses her, how much he loves her, and loves being with her and doing things for her.

I am even more like him than I ever realised.

It’s an odd time, whilst we now wait for the funeral (next week), and slowly put our lives back together minus yet another massive piece (Mum did love a jigsaw). It’s just me and my sister now, and between us we have to decide what to do with things that have little value to anyone except us. I already have a ‘candy’ thermometer that my Dad used to use that I didn’t realise Mum had kept. Things like that, like the bust of our dog Sintra, some photos, a few trinkets.

And as much as I’d love it, the family piano will go. I’m pretty sure the metal structure inside is cracked/warped so it’ll never be in tune again, but I spent many hours watching Mum play it, as well as many more learning to play it myself.

In the meantime I am starting the process of closing accounts, notifying services, and Jennie and I have the funeral planned. There is still much to do but that’s all it really is, stuff to do. It will get done.

I am grieving, working, keeping myself busy and crying when I feel the need. As ever Becca is there for me, even though she is grieving too, but she knows my shoulders can hold her tears too if she needs them too. And my beautiful boy remains blissfully unaware but I know he’ll ask soon when he realises we aren’t going to Grandma’s house. And I will cry and hold him close and then make him laugh and his smile will full my heart with the love it needs.

One comfort I have found is in writing the eulogy. I remember when Dad passed I did the same, wrote it quite soon after he died and re-read and edited and re-read and edited it until the night before the funeral itself. I’ve already written the first draft of Mum’s and made some edits and tweaks over the past couple of days.

Messages have flooded in, cards and phone calls. It’s all a blur, as it was a few years ago. I know the day itself will pass and life will move on, but for now I am living day to day, hour to hour. Sleep evades me one night, welcomes me in the next. Such odd days.

I am baffled. While the votes are still being counted, and most of the swing states are only being split by less than 100,000 votes, it looks like the USA has voted for a narcissistic sociopath. Again.

America seems to be very very broken, with a massive and growing divide between those in cities and associated suburbia, and those in more rural locations.

I am struggling to understand how anyone can listen and watch what that man says and does and think, yes, that’s a great leader right there. Even more baffling is that a lot of younger voters have turned to him as well.

It points to many issues, a failing (critical) education system, communities divided by class, race, ability, and gender, and the Republican party has managed to rally many people around… well, I’ve no idea what because I’m not sure what that party stands for anymore.

America have elected a fascist.

I’ll leave the last word (because I simply cannot write another) to the recently passed Janey Godley RIP. One can only imagine the disdain and vitriol she would attack this news with: