Transitions.
My mum died on June 17th.
She’d been in intensive care for a month. Progress had been slow - too slow for the doctors’ liking. Finally, we got the call that informed us that there was nothing more they could do for her. I was there when it happened, I held her hand, and, thankfully, it was quick and, I was assured, painless. The funeral was just under a week later and, again, it passed about as well as such an occasion possibly can.
The pain hasn’t kicked in yet, but it’s in the post, that’s for sure. It took a good month or so for the pain to kick in after my dad passed away back in 1990. It’s only when you get back to living a normal life that you notice the huge holes that such a loss leaves in your life. I’m dreading my first Saturday back in the US, when I won’t be getting the usual midday Skype call. Then there’s her birthday, there’s Christmas… all those sorts of occasions. Not being able to keep her up to date on the progress of Baby Stoat, not being able to tell her about any achievements, or even catching up on the latest gossip from the Irish members of my family.
And, of course, it begs the question, what do we do now? I, for one, have no idea. Life goes on, I guess, but things will never be the same. I am now officially an orphan, and I have no idea how to deal with that.
I love you, Mum. Glad you’re back with Dad now, wherever that may be. Look in on us from time to time, OK?
