My Mummy
I’ve got a strange compulsion to type this to anyone who will listen/read, mostly because I don’t think this is real and actually happening.
My mum died today. At about 10.05am. It’s her birthday today, she’s 60. And it’s a tiny bit under 9 years since she had a stroke which should have killed her. Instead, as a result of a fall on Saturday night, she broke a hip and ended up in hospital. This morning I got a phone call from the staff nurse on duty on the ward saying was acutely ill. Her heart rate was racing and her breathing was laboured. When we all got there at about 7.30am, she was an oxygen mask but looking reasonable. She was alert and responding to us. Then at 9.30am her breathing become worse. She kept saying “please, please. please, please, please.” I’ll never know what it is she wanted, because she couldn’t say. At about 10am, some nurses came in and turned her onto her side, after which is died. Quietly. Without apparently pain.
I’ve said many times over the years that I actually lost my mum the day the stroke took over. But it not quite the same as knowing you’ll never see or hear from or talk to or touch or laugh with or get angry with or feel frustrated at/with or anything ever again.
I’ve lost my mum. And I’ve lost who am I, because I’ve been defined for so long by her.
I rang my sister within minutes of her death, just to say sorry that she wasn’t here to be with her. My sister, who I’ve resented on so many levels for too long, is now making a rather difficult and problematic car journey all the way from Essex to see her one last time. But she won’t get to she her mum. It’ll be a shell of a person she’ll say goodbye to.
I really, really, really want to disappear off the face of the planet right now.
I feel so alone and lost, despite my brother and father being here. I can’t be there for them though. I am in some ways, but in others I can’t.
I hate this time of year.
I’ll quietly walk away for a bit now.
friend said,
2 October, 2008 at 12:27 am
Bea, I am so sorry to hear this sad news. I cannot imagine the pain you must be feeling right now. Please have courage and faith to help you through the pain. Take comfort from the rest of your family, dad, brother and sister , they will all be feeling the same, you are not alone. God bless. P
princesscatey said,
15 October, 2008 at 6:09 pm
Bea I just chanced upon your blog and I was really moved by what you wrote about losing your mum.I’m really sorry you had to go through that;I know from personal experience how utterly devastating it is. All I can say is try not to give in to the sadness and try to remember your life will not always be this.
Get in touch if you need to.
Take care.
Bea Whale said,
16 October, 2008 at 1:00 pm
Thank you, P and Princess Catey.
It’s times like these you discover who your real friends are.
princesscatey said,
16 October, 2008 at 10:09 pm
you’re welcome Bea.How are you doing?
Bea Whale said,
17 October, 2008 at 3:00 pm
Clinging. In a word.
Clinging on to reality, sobriety, memories.
Trying to keep busy, but that’s a little tricky when for the last few years your entire world has revolved around the person who is now gone forever.
Still want to run away.
princesscatey said,
17 October, 2008 at 10:45 pm
People think it’s easier if they’ve been ill for a long time; but when it actually happens you feel as if you were bending down to pick a daisy in the middle of a railroad track when a train hit you in the arse.
It’s normal to want to run away or disappear.It feels as if it would be really easy, probably.Not only has the role the world expects of you suddenly and cruelly changed, but also your own identity has been wrapped up with your mum for so long now, you probably feel completely without anchor and disconnected,like you could float off the edge of the world.Your facing not only the terrible grief but also the need to completely redefine everything about yourself and your life.It feels completely overwhelming and its not the same for the relatives who weren’t carers, it can’t be. What you’re feeling is completely normal.
Bea Whale said,
19 October, 2008 at 12:18 pm
That very much sounds like someone who knows what they are talking about. It made me cry, because it made so much sense. And it is exactly what I would say, if I had previously known how to articulate it all. In between mad sounding howls and wails. There is too much of a great mess of thoughts and feelings in my brain that I barely know were to start to detangle it all to express myself whenever those I care about say, “Do you want to talk about it?” I simply stay quiet.
As an extra dimension of headfuckery, I’m now feeling very broody. This has massively thrown me, as I have never wanted kids. And the boyfriend is looking quite scared whenever anyone jokingly mentions marriage and children, which is understandable as we’ve only been seeing each other a little under 2 months.
Rob said,
1 November, 2008 at 10:28 am
When you first posted this my heart went out to you but never having lost anyone close to me I had no clue how you must be feeling.
But my nan died last weekend and she was pretty much my mum, so now I kind of know what you’re going through and it absolutely sucks arse.
Stay strong bea, you’ll find your way out the other side.
I guess we both will.
Rob
Neil said,
4 November, 2008 at 11:05 am
Hello,
Bless you Bea.
My mum died a couple of weeks ago. She was ill for a while but this was not expected.
Death is so, well, rubbish,final. Especially when it is a close relative.
Don’t stop writing.
Neil.