A Mother’s Tender Hands

She’s held mine many times throughout my life, and as my Mum nears the end of her time on this earth I hold hers.

It’s 4:30am on Monday morning, I awoke at 3am and cannot get back to sleep. Stewart is camping out in Mum’s living room. Just in case she became distressed through the night and no one is there with her. No doubt she will sleep all through, but after being there on Sunday, and seeing the further deterioration in her, we just didn’t feel right leaving her alone, even if she’s sleeping.

We knew she had slipped further along the road when we arrived Sunday morning. Being propped up is not an option, she takes some fluid and I fed her some mashed banana. We get some talk but she falls asleep in a second.

Morag and Graham came after lunchtime. We all talk, sit with her, hoping she can feel the love as we take turns to hold her hands and be with her as she drifts in and out of sleep.

Later, I called Zina my mum’s good friend who lives downstairs from her in the ‘independent living home’ as my mum calls it! She is so sad her friend is dying. ‘Your mum was a one off’. ‘Everything was better and more fun when she was around’, ‘ we always ended up with a laugh whether on the phone or meeting up in the lounge’. She was glad she had come up to see her on Friday when they could still chat to one another.

Ninety three, soon to have been 94 is a long life and I’m lucky and grateful I had such a great mum for so long.


Thank you kind people who left me comforting words yesterday.