Jon Mackley, November 4th 2021
I’ve been fortunate to stay with Mum and Dad this summer. We’ve shared caring for Mum and some important quality time. And I had important conversations with Mum. She was a nurturer. She was the glue keeping the family together. She cherished many friendships from around the world. She was generous: she supported friends of mine, fed guests at a moment’s notice or took them in when they needed a place. And compassionate. I remember one time she met a young chap at the station and invited him for dinner with us as he’d just arrived in Brussels and didn’t know anyone.
Mum had simple pleasures: family, eau gazeuse, tapestry, a sudoku, a good book and daffodils. Her love of story is an intrinsic part of her legacy. Mum encouraged me to imagine stories, not just those told with words, but to visualise story through music and through sensation. We listened to many classical records where I was told what was going on. When I was ill, the story was about how good germs and bad germs were fighting in my stomach which was why it ached.
She was lucky to do jobs she truly enjoyed. She encouraged reading and literacy and has played a quiet role in people’s lives. This included founding the Bushey Children’s Book Group, and working in school libraries in England and Brussels. Over the years she inspired many people to read. One of her tricks was read to a point of suspense, then slam the book shut, telling her audience: “If you want to find out what happens, you’ll have to read it for yourself!” Some of these readers are now parents and teachers, and perhaps use Mum’s techniques to inspire others. Her influence is certainly at the heart ofmy own teaching.
Yet, until I mentioned it to her, Mum hadn’t even considered how she encouraged future generations. But likewise, many people Mum inspired probably won’t realise the impact she’d had on their lives And I think that’s the way she’d prefer it.
Mum wouldn’t want to be defined by her illness and would downplay any acknowledgement of the courage and dignity with which she faced it. I’m sure she protected most of us from seeing her most challenging times. Instead of lamenting her lot, she saw the 16 years since her first treatment as opportunities to watch her grandchildren and step-grandchildren grow up; and travelling the world and actually living her life, a life that many people would only dream of. But there is a point where the battle becomes too much for the resources you have. She fought hard to the end. And the greatest courage is knowing when to let go and find the rest she richly deserves. When it came, her end was peaceful. She slipped away with her family around her in a room filled with love and gratitude. She has given Dad, Peter and me the best guidance to cope our own. Even so, there have been many times over the past weeks I’ve wanted to ask: “How do I ...?” And I hear her reply: “If you want to find out, you’ll have to read it for yourself.”
This might seem a strange time to cite the First Law of Thermodynamics – that matter and energy cannot be destroyed, only changed. Mum and I discussed how her energy would flow into all the things around us. So I already see her in the things I find beautiful: in sunrises and sunsets. In rainbows and waterfalls. And I look forward to seeing her dancing among a whole host of golden daffodils. Mum’s energy will continue to flow. She’s left thevehiclethat carried her through this lifetime – that’s what we are saying goodbye to today. But her energy will continue to surround us and her legacy of story will continue for many generations.
I should like to conclude with a poem that Mum recently said to me was her favourite, and one that she specifically requested for this celebration of her life. It’s called “Immortality” by Clare Harner, although many will recognise it from its first line.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
Yorumlar