Mum was born on 30 June 1924 at Bethany Home in Auckland, and stayed with her mother till she has a toddler. We don’t know why her mother, Angela, eventually had to give her up. I wish we had met her, she sounds such a character. We are fortunate to know Angela through her son John (Mum’s half-brother) and his family.
Mum would have been 94 today, not an age she had any great desire to get to. Mum didn’t romanticize old age; she talked about it being hard work and used to say that Dad, who died suddenly at 65 while out fishing, “got it exactly right, but a decade too soon”. When Mum died in 2012 she was ready to leave this earth, and we let her go with love.
Mum shared her birth date with John’s ex-wife Liz – birthday twins, as I called them. So happy birthday Liz. I’m sure Mum is watching over us all.
Happy birthday Mum – you are loved and missed, but released with love too.
Every year, as Mum’s birthday on June 30 approaches, I sleep badly and have vivid dreams. Mum died in 2012; we let her go with love in our hearts, knowing she was very ready to die. Yet my brain persists in this hyper-awareness every year. As in previous years, working in my art journal helps. Art really does have the power to heal people.
This photo was taken in 2011, her last Christmas, with her grandson Rowan. I have no idea now what they were talking about, but I can remember it being quite animated! I have put a heart over her face because sometimes I can’t bring her face to my mind, which is such a scary feeling. Mum may be gone, but love remains. The good memories are wrapped firmly round me heart.
I didn’t do the #colourmepositive challenge last weekend so have done two today, which was a nice distraction from other more domestic things. For the first time in more than 35 years of dog ownership, I’m having serious flea issues. We have flea sprayed the house, washed bedding, rugs, dog toys, sprayed furniture and so on. Hopefully it’s all sorted now – Faith’s at the vet again tomorrow for a chekcup re her many medical problems so fingers crossed.
Tonight I’m back into my fav Dina Wakley art journal, playing with Alison’s old photos. The words I’ve used, “my someone”, relate to her memory loss and the fact she feels no connection to her photos. I suspect dementia is harder on those watching than those fading.