‘I hope we said thanks for the long hours she spent making and baking and sewing and growing for us’

I HAVE lived through a lifetime of emotions in the last few days: joy, helplessness, gratitude, guilt, relief, loneliness, deep sadness — and not necessarily in that order.

During those seven days my eight siblings and I sat by our mother’s bedside, taking turns to watch over her and hold her hand, as she gradually slipped in and out of consciousness and finally passed away, gently in her sleep, as dawn broke on April 17.

Mummy was in her early 80s and had been a widow for 45 years. She was a woman of strong faith and was so looking forward to being with Daddy once again. She consoled us all by whispering that she was not frightened of death. As she lapsed into a coma we longed for her to open her eyes just one more time, until my sister reminded us of how disappointed she was likely to be if she woke up to find us all peering anxiously at her, rather than meeting Daddy with his arms open wide. During the long week with my brothers and sisters, there were several other comic moments, and even some laughter interspersed with sadness and grief as we reminisced and swapped memories.