Sunday, 10 March 2013

RIP my Mum

As the phrase goes, her long battle with cancer ended today, Mothers' Day, leaving her now in peace. But there was so much more to her life than the way it ended. A dedicated primary school teacher of the (literally) old school who believed in imparting knowledge to children and ensuring that they could all read, write and add up, she also embraced what were then new methods to ensure that this process was done gently and kindly - with the child running alongside rather than dragged behind.

At home, she brought up three children who knew that help with schoolwork would always be available, and that the suffix "It's for school" would guarantee a positive response to any "Can I..." question. To say we had an educational springboard is beyond understatement. And it worked, too; all three of us are graduates, and are now a patent attorney, a consultant radiologist, and a journalist. She was proud, and she made sure that we knew she was.

Warm and affectionate, she made our home into the safe refuge from the outside world that it should be. As a family, we were always slightly different, slightly out of place, and the security of home that she created for us was a source of strength.

She really did fight the cancer that eventually took her. She also kept her sense of humour to the end, teasing all three of us in different ways. We were blessed with over a week's warning of the end, and were able to use that, to gather, and to say goodbye. There were moments of wit that week that were uniquely her; I will not forget them.

Bye Mum xx


  1. I'm so sorry to hear this. Thinking of you :(

  2. Likewise, sorry to hear the sad news. I remember you mentioning her on the blog a few years ago. She was clearly a mother to be proud of.

    May you know God's presence at what is never an easy time.

  3. My Mum was a teacher, too. I am so sorry.

  4. Sorry to hear. Thoughts are with you and your siblings.

  5. I am sorry you have lost her. She was a good mother and will have been immensely proud of your achievements.

    Thinking of you and your family.

  6. My condolences. I feel for you in your grief.

  7. Hmm. similar story, But I was not "available". I was at Seighton barracks near Chester. Got the shout from the control, Take XYZ motorbike, Blues and horns, Cheshire/Merseyside police will escort, get home fast! (Wallasey, which is about 21 miles away).

    Too late.

    I sympathise.