Eileen Ogilvie R.I.P. – remember everyone is mortal

A tribute to my mum who died yesterday morning

7.30 am Friday morning 30th January – the telephone rang – it was the call I had been dreading for years, even though I knew it must come sometime.

It was the nursing home where she had only gone in one week before for two weeks respite care – Michael I am sorry to tell you we took Eileen up a cup of tea at 7.10am and found she was not breathing

The earth stood still for a few moments while I showed my stiff upper lip and remained controlled, until my 15 year old son Daniel realising something was not right, asked if everything was ok.

I then broke down, but tried not to show him, so he did not have to suffer what I was going through.

The woman who every wednesday , even when she had been in hospital with a broken pelvis, caringly checked with “her little boy” to see if I had put put the correct recycling bin out  for collection, was no longer there for me

That unconditional love, that unnecessary but much appreciated worry over me driving too much around the country , driving too fast, doing too much, drinking too much etc etc was not going to be there anymore

It is at times like this when someone close to you passes on to their new life elsewhere in the cosmos, that life is put into perspective

My plans for my speeches in Iran seemed irrelevant, even when there were promises to be kept, and deadlines to be met – my family and especially my elderly 85 year old father had to come first.

My mum looked after all of us mentally, because she could no longer do it physically, and my dad told me today that the previous afternoon she told him off when he said he was considering selling her car, and reminded him to buy some stamps because they were going up in price shortly – even when she was revealing to him she was frightened she was so weak she might die, she was  worrying about others.

Thank goodness I spent more time with her making her more comfortable that previous evening at the Nursing Home on my return from a few days skiing abroad with friends. Thank goodness I only agreed to go for a few days rather than the whole week as the others were doing. I spent some quality time talking with her and helping her to drink some Actimel joghurt juice when others had failed to get her interested .

She was very unhappy with the home she was in, believing the staff treated her like a room number rather than a person. I agreed to find her a new home in a weeks time, if she had not regained her strength. I offered to get the priest to visit her but she told me off saying she was not ready for that yet – thank goodness I had those discussions to make her feel loved and cared for …… and yet I never had a chance to say any goodbyes.

If I had even suspected she might stand a chance of dieing that night or next morning, I would have stayed with her, but her death came totally unexpectedly, despite her not being well. Her poor old heart must have given up with the strain of her perpetual asthma, and recent pneumonia.

How many times have we heard this about others, and yet do we listen?

Like hell we do! We are all so bloody busy, driving, striving , and surviving, and we forget the most important people around us.

I should not feel guilty – I have been a good son – but at times like this I know I could have been a better son

The reason I am sharing my heartache with you, is because I want you to avoid having the same problem, because you will feel wretched if it happens to you.

Think about those who are close to you – have you told them recently how much they mean to you and how much you love and appreciate them? If not,  do it now – they might not be here tomorrow morning.

And if you do, that will be the best tribute I could ever pay to my mum – to repay her love, her care, her worrying and her kindness.

Rest in peace Eileen – my god you deserve to, if anyone does.

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