To get me back into the ‘blogging groove’, I want to share with you some things I found that my mum had written down, and that we never got a chance to talk about. It might help me, and who knows, it might just help a few other people too, so here begins a little mini-series.
When my mum was diagnosed with cancer and told it was terminal, she bought herself a new notebook.
She started a Bucket List, and I know that she squirelled other things away in there too, but I always got the impression it was quite private, and I didn’t like to pry.
The day after she died, my Dad handed me the notebook and asked me to look through it.
I was kind of hoping for pretty explicit instructions about what she wanted for the funeral and things, but there weren’t. I think, like all of us, she thought she had more time left.
But there was a whole section of poems, and readings and songs/hymns, most of which we managed to incorporate into the services in some form.
Lots of the readings and quotes were pretty inspirational stuff, and I would have loved to have had the chance to have a chat with my mum about what they meant to her.
But I have decided to share them here, in the hope that it will remind me of all the good things out there, and maybe provide all of us with a bit of inspiration when things are tough.
Here is the poem, by a lady called Nadine Stair that I read at the Crematorium.
I had a brief period of panic the day before, thinking that it might convey a life of regret, which isn’t the message we wanted at all. But I had a chat with my brother, and we decided that actually, everyone probably looks back, at whatever stage of life they are at, and sees the missed opportunities for more joy, more mindfulness, more ‘in the moment-ness’.
And it’s a good reminder of how life should be lived.
If I had my life to live over I’d like to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax. I would limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances.
I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I’m one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day.
Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I’d have more of them. In fact, I’d try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.
I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.
If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.
If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dances.
I would ride more merry-go-rounds,
I would pick more daisies.