Having been trying over the past nine months to adjust to being a widower, I wasn't much blessed to add "orphan" to my portfolio.
What do you say when your Mother dies? That she had a long life? That she lived a full life? That she was a good Mother? That she was a good person? Yes; all of that, but there is so much more...
She gave me life--something to which a non-mother can never fully relate. She fed me, she clothed me, she defended me, and--together with my Dad—she made a home for me and taught me about family values. I learnt the value of honesty and integrity and reliability from them. We had fun together; we faced crises together.
She stood by my Dad as he buried his mother and two of his brothers. With my Dad, she buried one of her sisters, her father and her mother. Then, alone, she buried my Dad, her other sister, one of her daughters, and her daughter-in-law, as well as various friends.
A tiny lady--five foot and half-an-inch at her zenith--she was a real survivor. She might get knocked down, but she would always get up again and continue the struggle. Three potentially fatal brushes with cancer across a period of forty years could not stop her. She just kept on living. Finally, the eventual aftermath of her third cancer surgery proved too much and she lost the battle.
Hail and farewell, Mom! You gave me life.
I'm proud to have been your son.