Two weeks, three days and 11 hours. That’s how long I’ve been missing you so far, Mum. I knew you were going to be leaving us, and I thought I was prepared. But I wasn’t. I want to call you up and tell you how things went after you died, and then I remember that I can’t. I’m fairly sure you don’t get internet access where you are in Heaven, but just in case you can, this blog post is for you.
Your funeral was amazing, Mum. You would have been so proud of all of us eight kids, we all stood together and supported each other. It was a good thing you had so many of us, sharing the pain lightened the load.
We arranged 70 coloured helium balloons, one for each of your years, and we let them go as your coffin was lowered. I wish I had thought to tell you a couple of weeks ago that I was planning on doing that. You would have loved the colours.
Afterwards there were plenty of laughs. Not even a funeral could dampen our sense of fun with each other. You would have loved to have this photo of all of us, this doesn’t happen often enough. Seems wrong to have a family photo without you in it though. I guess I’ll just have to get used to it.
Now everyone has gone back home. Life is getting back to normal. But still I miss you. I’m holding onto those verses that talk about there being a time for everything, a time to laugh and a time to cry. I just figure this is the time to cry and that happiness shouldn’t be too far down the track again.
Oh, and one more thing. I have your old bible. I know it was your most treasured possession. It’s all loved and worn, written in, underlined and cried on. I love it. Thank you.
So we’re all moving on, I guess, just as you’d want us to. I still wish that things were so different and that you were still here, but that doesn’t seem to help anything.
So one final time, as I used to say when I would tuck you in at night “Love you much and mucher, Goodnight Ma”.