I sat on Mum’s bed, holding her warm hand. My sister Antoinette held her other hand.
Baby Bonnie, my youngest daughter, snuggled contentedly against my chest.
“So tricky, Mum,” I whispered.
We sat there as the daylight faded into dusk, and Mum’s body grew cooler.
From time to time, Antoinette said gentle, loving words to Mum; words full of grace, and gratitude and compassion.
But I was mute.
The only word that came to me was “tricky” and I’d already whispered that.
Part confession, part anguish.
As I breastfed Bonnie, sitting on that bed in the immediate hours after Mum’s death, I
wrestled with that word.
What was so tricky?
Mum, or our relationship? The last 5 years?
But gradually, too, I realised that I was finally free. Liberated, at last, from the burden
of caring for my drowning, despairing, dementing mother.
But this new knowledge didn’t bring me joy, or even relief. I felt hollow, and bone
tired.
The caring journey had been harrowing: for me, my sister and most of all for our
Mother, Gaenor.
It had deeply impacted every single area of my life: my relationship with Michael; my career; my friendships; and my parenting.
Impacted is a bit of a euphemism. When I say “impact” think COVID pandemic, rather than say daylight savings.
As the shock of Mum’s death started to wear off, two things happened.
I started to transform back into Daughter. I was no longer the reluctant, desperate
Carer; I was free to return to my original, much more comfortable role of Sian, eldest daughter of John and Gaenor, and I had just lost my Mother. Now I could start to mourn.
At the same time, a new spikey emotion started began to grow alongside my grief.
It twisted and pierced, and it hurt.
Regret.
Regret had arrived, and with it a new phrase formed in my mind:
“If only...”
If only I knew just how bloody hard this journey would be.
If only I knew at the start what I know now.
If only I’d been able to find grace in the face of horror.
If only I hadn’t spent the last five years so desperate.
Desperate to relieve Mum’s pain.
Desperate to find the right answers.
Desperate to finish the hours of her financial and life admin.
And absolutely desperate to get back to my 'real life'.
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