The never ever of grief

A MAYO WOMEN'S DIARY: BARBARA DALY

I WAS in Dunnes Stores the other day looking at clothes when I felt a sudden wave of sadness for the loss of my mother.

She loved clothes and sometimes we went together and browsed, and I could see her there so clearly.

It is one of those moments, even now, 11 years after she died, when I ache to have one more day with her.

Browsing for clothes in Dunnes is one of the many, many mundane things I will never do again with her.

I probably did not even particularly enjoy doing it at the time. I probably hurried her along and was bored and was thinking of a hundred other things I had to do.

I look at other adult women with their elderly mothers and sometimes I hear their frustration with their parent. I see how they have grown impatient with them and I want to tell them.

I want to tell them that they will miss this, that they will wish they had that time back, they will wish that they had been more kind and more patient, even on the mundane days.

If I had that one more day with her I would listen – listen to her story and try to remember every detail.

I would ask so many questions about her life, about her motherhood and about us. And I would acknowledge her. Acknowledge her life, her selflessness, her work, her mothering and the many challenges she faced.

I would tell her so many things too. I would tell her about my children and my experience as a mother. I would tell her it is all okay and I am doing fine. I would thank her, over and again.

She was not perfect, she made plenty of mistakes and some resonate to this day.

But I have always known, now more than ever as I too am a mother, that she did her best, that she loved each and every one of us as best she could.

My father is gone now too and the family home has been packed up and sold. There is such finality about it all.

I think that is probably the hardest and most enduring thing about grief – the finality.

The fact that you will never ever do or say or hear or feel those things with that person again.

It’s the never ever that keeps on hitting you.