Isn’t this photo gorgeous? The pink coat, the blooming flowers and the smiling girl… just lovely. This photo is of my mother and was taken circa 1960 in a park in London where she and my Dad lived for 2 years. My mother passed away on the 5th of October while we were in Denmark. It was quite unexpected and receiving the news on the other side of the world made me feel somewhat helpless. We made it home for her funeral and I’m so pleased we did. I decided not to speak at the funeral – you see my mother was my best friend and I don’t think I could have made it through a eulogy. My brothers both spoke and did an incredible job. As did a friend and ex employee who says she owes her success in life to my mother. So this blog post is my eulogy.

My Mum and I liked to congratulate ourselves on our relationship. She had friends who argued with their daughters and I had friends who butted heads with their mothers – but not us. I’m sure we were a little bit smug about that. We shared the same interests and I genuinely loved her company. My Dad recently remarked that he felt I understood her better than anyone else – even him. They were married for almost 53 years.

We travelled together – sometimes just to Canberra to see an exhibition or she would join me in Sydney. She loved visiting ‘her haunts’ as she called them, the places of her youth in Sydney’s eastern suburbs. She came to stay with me in Japan and spent the first 2 days playing Gameboy – she said she was recovering from jet lag (she’d just flown from New York) but I think she was a little bit hooked on Tetris. She always did have an affinity with technology and was the only person in the house that could program the VCR.

She devoted her entire working life to the education of young children and I think that accounted for her playfulness and the way she looked at the world. Children were drawn to her and my boys and nephews were no exception. They loved to visit Grandma.

She could sew, knit, crochet, tatt, quilt and embroider so beautifully and yet she would say that she wasn’t creative but could follow a pattern. She never declined my insistance that she make me some convoluted pattern – like the Issey Miyake shirt (that was circa 1984) – I was never quite sure if she just couldn’t say no or simply liked the challenge.

Her passing has left a very large void in my world. She was not only my friend and mother but my mentor and confidant. She taught me how to be my own person, how to follow my instincts and how to be in charge of my happiness – all the things that cannot be taught and yet she did. While I feel like my guiding light has disappeared over the horizon I take great comfort in the values she instilled in me and safe in the knowledge that while I don’t want to, I may be able to traverse this world without her. Right now though, I’m sad beyond belief and while I have some days where I’m quite accepting of her passing I have others  where I feel it’s like a bad karmic joke that I can’t pick up the phone and chat with her. I’m hoping that gets a little easier.

My mother would always sign her letters and emails with “much love Betty (your mother)”. I never knew why it was just one of her little quirks.

Be at peace now Mumma with much love Libby (your daughter).

P.S. My brother printed colour copies of this photo and included it in the funeral order of service. It was such a lovely touch.