Goodbye…part 2.

Monday 27th August 2007.

We arrived at the hospice about 11. Mum’s breathing was awful. We asked if there was anything that could be done about it. The lovely lovely nurse said she could give mum something for it, she looked at us deeply as she said this and we knew what she meant. My sister, brother and I all agreed she needed something to make her comfortable. She said it would be a few hours before she was.

We took turns in sitting with her, my mums parents were there, as were 3 of her sisters, the only people missing were my uncle as he was abroad, My Aunty Sally who was looking after Caitlyn and mums husband Terry as we had sent him home for a break as he had been at the hospice every waking hour.

I remember making tea, and talking with my aunties, my sister was washing up. All of a sudden Aunty Sue, came running down the corridor and shouted to us. Hurry, it’s time.

Time stood still, I still can’t remember getting to the room, or how my legs worked. I have tried so hard to think back but I can’t. I just remember walking into the room and there was nothing. No sound. Mum wasn’t breathing. I thought I was too late. I grabbed her hand, as did Kelly. And in that moment she took a breath. Her last one. I really hope she knew we were there. To say goodbye.

When she died she was wearing a nightdress with a butterfly on, with a saying printed on it “fly away home” And at the moment she died out of the window we saw some white butterflies. So, for us butterflies mean our mum is with us. You might think it’s silly. But to me when I see one I think my mum is watching over me. Checking I am okay.

I literally jumped on my mum when she died. I was shaking from crying. And my poor Nan, she thought mum was still breathing as she was moving. But it was me, moving mum with my body.

My mum, Roberta, died of cancer. She had lung, bone and liver cancer, and a brain tumour. She stood no chance of surviving that. After her first dose of chemo she developed a duodenal ulcer and after that, all of her strength left her. She couldn’t eat, barely drink and it left her so weak. She really did try to fight and for that I am very proud of her. I do get angry though, wishing when she first started to feel tired, and when she couldn’t take deep breaths in she had gone to the doctors sooner. Maybe then she might still be here. Who knows. But she did say she knew she had lung cancer long before it was diagnosed. So for that a part of me will always be angry with her. But all of me misses her, all of me loves her.

From that very day she was diagnosed, it only took 88 days for the cancer to kill her. It wasn’t enough time. I remember going to see her not long after she was diagnosed and saying to her that she couldn’t die as I wasn’t finished with her as my mum. She replied “don’t give up on me just yet” I promised I wouldn’t. I needed her. But by then it was already too late.

RIP Mummy. See you again one day xxx

I am sorry if reading my blogs have been upsetting. It was upsetting to write, but I needed to get it out. I feel better when I write. It calms me. These 2 blogs took over a month to write, and looking back it doesn’t seem possible that it’s taken so long. I also want to point out, I didn’t write these for sympathy or for attention. I wrote them as I am proud of my mum and I am proud of me and it’s part of our lives.

4 thoughts on “Goodbye…part 2.

  1. jowonderwoman says:

    Two beautifully written blogs & although those we have lost were in totally different circumstances…I totally felt every word you said because I feel the same.
    Love you so much, friend for life xxx

    Like

    • coodababy says:

      Thank you Jo.
      It means a lot. Yes very different circumstances but the feelings are very similar.
      Definitely a friend for life. Love you xx

      Like

  2. mugofdecaf says:

    You have such love for your mum; tonight I cried for you both.
    It’s taken me ages to get the right words for a comment, so I can understand why it took you a month to write the blogs.
    It’s funny how our memories block things or don’t retain scenes of events. Dale and I have found this recently, with both of us having the same piece of the puzzle missing.
    Birthdays must be hard enough without your mum, never mind it being the time of year that she passed away too.
    Love to you and your girls xxx

    Like

    • coodababy says:

      Thank you Vix.
      Sometimes I am glad I can’t remember all of the last week of my mums life as its so painful and I wish I could remember her before the hospice. I’m glad I was there at the end. I’m very grateful but I also wish the hospice memories were never real. Life is so cruel xx

      Like

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