Mum died on 10th December. She was 94. She had been declining for about three years and it had been exhausting trying to balance her care needs with a full time job, disabled husband, and two teenage children. Writing that, I think I am just burnt out. Anyway, lots of anticipatory grief along the way as it has been difficult, and I have had some excellent counselling provided by the palliative care team in the last weeks before she died, for which I am very grateful.
but, oh.
I have to write the eulogy and although I love writing, I am putting it off. I have to sort out the funeral booklets but have been putting that off too. I need to do these things but can’t seem to sort myself out to DO them. It is very childish.
Mum was a difficult woman. An amazing achiever, professionally, and very interesting, but not warm or motherly, and could be emotionally and physically abusive. With the counselling I was able to forgive her, which was a huge step, and healing, but my inner self seems to be balking at standing up and waxing lyrical about her, even though I know she had some splendid and admirable qualities.
Not sure what I am asking. Just being honest I suppose. I can see, writing this, that I just need to get on and do it, and I will. But it is complicated and difficult. And even though it wasn’t the mother-daughter relationship I would have hoped for, she was still my Mum, and it’s only been a few weeks.