Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Transcription: Memories of my mother

Marian Rose Boston

A beaming smile, eyes bright and pleading, arms outstretched with fingers long and wriggling with anticipation.  Then, when leaning over, a hug so strong that you felt your neck would break and, inside, you knew your heart was breaking.

This is not the description of my small son first thing in the morning, pleased to see his Mummy.  This is the wonderful greeting given to me by my Mum, suffering from Dementia.

She became a different mum after diagnosis, a new mum and we left the old one behind to love in a different way the person she had become.

All the things she had taught us came into play and it allowed us the privilege of caring for her and returning all the good things she had given us.  Her views, her beliefs, her patience.  All given freely and returned ten times over.

She was the youngest of 14 children, born in 1924 and yet she was the youngest to die.  She had a happy childhood, and the most wonderful of marriages, with two adoring daughters and, of course, grandchildren.  She imparted her views of fairness and acceptance, not to judge and to give freely of oneself and one's possessions.  She worked in the home and felt we had shot ourselves in the feet by being wives, mothers and following a career.

She died a few days after Mother's Day.  She had recently begun to enjoy her mobile phone and had said "If anything happens to me, remember my life has been roses - all the way".

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