Search

The ramblings of Mrs. Hoolihan

My rants on life and everything in between. Desperately trying to remind myself that it's just not worth the jail time.

Category

Mum

Another year gone Mummy….


2.50am, 2nd March 2011 you were beckoned to Heaven to become an Angel.

Our world stopped. Tick tock, Tick tock, the silence suddenly became so deafening.

Filled with bleakness, panic and a void, we’d only ever known the strength and love of you our Mum and of Dad too. A quiet, steely strength, you were the anchor of our family ship.

The life and soul, you’d light a room with your presence. Never one to shout and scream, you quite literally held the patience of a saint.

Never one to complain, you always put others before yourself. Upon reaching you at hospital at 11.30pm on 1st March, on seeing me enter that little room, your first words were, “Jen love, what’re you doing here, you’ve work tomorrow?” Hours from death and you were more worried about me than yourself – your love for us children was your only thought, not what you were about to face – your love never waived, we were never second only ever first to you.

When you died, a piece of us died with you. A void swept in; shock overcame us and time stood still. It’s been 6 years now and not a day goes by that  I don’t think of you, wish you were here or long one last time, to hug  and smell your skin, the way I used to as a little girl.

You’re still with us, I know for certain. I know you were there on my wedding day last year, the sunbeam on the photos when there was no sun demonstrated your presence. Last year you also missed the birth of your 4th grandchild, your first Granddaughter, Isla’Rose. A little beauty, I know that you’ll be the proudest Grandmother in Heaven and each night, you’ll be looking over your beautiful grandchildren, ensuring their safety as they dream of all things sugar and spice and all things nice…

Harry asked me the other day whose Mummy Nanny Marilyn was and I explained she’s Daddy’s Mummy. He then asked me where my Mummy was and I told him that Nanny Karen is a twinkle twinkle in the star and he asked if you ever spoke to me.. My heart broke but I was determined not to cry – you’d laugh and cry at my beautiful and funny little man – he quite simply has no idea how much I miss you.

I wish you could join us from Heaven once again, if only for one last time for larger than life family meals to meet the newest members of our ever expanding family. You’d adore Wayne and Ross – they’d never tire of your never ending feeding! Your grandchildren you’d adore and you’d relish being able to enjoy looking after the munchkins of a weekend and whilst we worked, baking and cooking with them all – you’d have them domesticated before they even went to school!

Dad, Dave, Ric, Jolene, Maffu and Baby Jayne miss you terribly Mummy. Time may distance us but our hearts never will. You’ll be pleased to know that we’re all as close as ever and together, we always ensure that your memory is kept alive.

Dave undertakes his climb to Everest’s basecamp later this year; please watch over him and keep him safe as  he climbs that bit closer to Heaven won’t you?

Another year may have passed Mummy and yes the void is still there, the pain is still there (sometimes it’s as raw as the day you were beckoned) but I can still feel your warmth, hear your infectious laugh and feel your arms around me – our memories never fade and a piece of you is will always be with me xxx

 

 

 

 

My Mummy. My Angel.


It’s been 5 years since Mummy was beckoned to become an Angel. 5 long years without her.

Sometimes  I hear her voice, capture a passing whiff of her perfume or hear an old Motown record and she’s right back in the room with us again.

Mummy didn’t want to die. On hearing the dreadful diagnosis of Cancer her words were simple according to my Dad, “I can’t have Cancer; I’ve 6 children”.

October 2006 is when those words were uttered and Mummy would quietly, with no fuss, battle the bastarding Cancer that would eventually kill her. Watching your parent, who you’ve always looked up to, battle a disease, is horrific. Luckily Mummy’s hair didn’t fall out, but she’d be confined to the family home for days on end; tired, withdrawn and sometimes ebbing at an all time low – the despair I think would torment her of her of what would happen to Dad and my brothers and sisters should she succumb to the fucker.

Not once did she ever ask why. Mummy wasn’t frightened of death; she never spoke of dying, I don’t think she could look it in the eye, but she wasn’t afraid – she was afraid for those she was leaving behind.

Mummy is always with us, I know that. She’d never leave us. Eternally 51, I know she’s looking out for each of us and she’d be proud of the people we’ve all become.

Dad although he misses her terribly and visits her grave without fail, every single day, is both Mum & Dad to us. He has his moments, but slowly, he’s realizing that you wouldn’t want him to mope each and every single day.

Dave is an incredible Daddy to little Davy who you missed on meeting by 2 months and Richard has become a Teacher. Joanne is your carbon copy Mum and thinks of everyone else but herself and Matthew has graduated uni with a 2:1 ! Jayne is now Mummy to Thomas who is 7 months old and a little treasure and all bar Dave who is yet to meet the woman of his dreams, we’ve such amazing partners, you’d love the lovely bones of each of them!

And then there’s me. You’d be surprised wouldn’t you at me becoming a Mummy! Always so focused on everything but children and not even liking them! Harry’s nearly 2 and an absolute dream – I know you visit him – whether it’s in his dreams or if you talk quietly to him, but I know you’re with him after what he said the other morning to Wayne.

My Mummy is my angel guardian and I know she looks to keep my family from harm. I know that when our time eventually comes, you’ll be there at those Pearly Gates, chewing St Peter’s ear off and once again, one, by one, our family will join  together again.

 

 

Losing loved ones & impending Christmas time.


Losing loved ones isn’t easy. It’s the absolute pits.

It doesn’t matter how old they are, how ill they were; who they were to you (step or biological) nothing can prepare you for the passing of a loved one.

I’ve had two friends lose their beloved Father and another his Mum in the last few weeks. Both passings couldn’t be different – one had sadly been poorly for a very long time and the other, tragically died instantly in a car crash. The circumstances are still the same irrespective of the build up of events that led to their passing.

My heart breaks for my friends. There’s nothing of any comfort at all that can be said to soften their hurt. No amount of hugs can make them feel any less lonely and no amount of words can heal their worried minds.

There’s no ‘good’ time to lose a loved one, I should know, I lost my beloved Grandfather two weeks before Christmas a number of years ago and Mummy in March 4 years ago. However, the lead up to Christmas is a horrific time to lose someone.

Christmas is family time. It’s that time of year, you enjoy spending time with those nearest and dearest to you. Yes there’s tears (there’s always that one family member who grates on you), but there’s laughter too, and lots of it too. And that’s what makes losing a loved one at this time of year so hard; you should be listening to their laughter yet all you feel is a void and all you can hear is an eery silence.

The first Christmas we had after losing Mummy was undoubtedly the hardest Christmas my family have ever had. Mummy’s absence was the elephant in the room; brave faces and smiles to paste over the quivering lips, I don’t believe I ever thought Christmas could ever be so sad…

And that’s why I can’t help but think of my friends. Day and night I can’t help but think of them. My pain isn’t as raw as it was (if you’ve never lost a parent, you can’t imagine the pain and it never goes away, you just learn to live with that pain in your heart) but it still hurts, a dull ache in your chest. Even though I’ve lost a parent, springtime when she passed brought a new sense of life. The trees started to blossom not too long afterwards, birds had returned and flowers began to peep through.

This time of year isn’t centred around any of these things – it’s all about Christmas and family. They’ll get through this horrific Christmas (two of my friends have children and this will help like you wouldn’t believe), but it’s going to be the hardest thing they’ve done to date and my heart couldn’t break any more for them…There’s light but it’ll be a long time before they can see even a chink of it.

Brought up Catholic, I believe in Heaven and that’s where I believe Mummy is. It’s where I believe my friends parents are too.

I believe they never leave us and walk beside us every day, unseen and unheard but always there…..

 

 

I wish you were here.


I wish you were here.

On Sunday, you missed the witnessing of Harry becoming a member of the Catholic Club. A somewhat reluctant member, Harry thought it appropriate that because it was his baptism, that he could parade around the Church in a  nonchalant manner, running onto the altar and generally monkeying around, much to the delight of his guests.

You see Harry has become a very independent little boy; he knows his own mind and he’s rather decisive. I can hear you now, “Oh he’s a little love” you’d say, “He’s the double of his Mother when it comes to knowing his own mind” and of course, you’d be right, as Mothers often are.

You’d have laughed as Father Bernard poured the holy water over Harry’s head, for Harry, most reluctant at this point to even be in Church, shouted out “More! More!” much to Father’s bemusement (never has he heard a child shout for more holy water he later conceded!).

Dressed in his little dickie bow, shirt and shorts with braces, you’d have been the typical doting Grandmother. Nothing would have kept you from celebrating Harry’s big day and you’d be there, always in the background, yet always the life and soul of any family gathering. Oh how I wish you were here.

“More! More!”

Don’t think I didn’t smell you in the kitchen Sunday night when Harry was in bed and I was home alone, as quick as you were there, you were gone.

When Harry’s asked where Nanny Karen is, he does the star motion to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, for he knows you as a Star in the sky, looking down from us all. He’s the apple of the family’s eye and is terribly adored by everyone too – a proper little boy, with a heart of gold and a beautiful  little laughter that’s ridiculously infectious!

I wish you were here, but I know you’re never far away. And forever, always in our hearts xx.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: