My husband's mother died today. After a long illness she passed away, finally, in her sleep, thanks to the wonder of morphine. Although we'd had 14 months to prepare for this,since the onset of her terminal illness,it still takes you by surprise and wanting to have said more in the final weeks.
The boys' reaction was as you might expect for their respective ages - incomprehension mixed with disbelief at the finality of it and the dawning that they will never see or talk to her again. Lots of questions, fear mixed with curiosity as to what happens to the body . I was pleased that they were able to talk freely and openly about it and weren't afraid to ask questions. I feared though that my answers were ill-prepared and unsatisfactory although I did attempt to answer them with honesty. It's a fine line though between truth and not wanting to distress them.
I will remember her as being the most wonderful matriarchal figure in the nicest sense of the word - loyal wife, wonderful mother to 3 children, doting grandmother to 8 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. Stoic, resourceful , razor sharp wit , modest, a great sense of duty and humility and yet very much her own person and able to hold her own. Glamorous, generous, cheerful and a great friend. She treated me like her own daughter for which I will be eternally grateful, having lost my own mother way before her time. Who could ask for more ?