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Mignon Ann Bloch For the Eulogy - please click here In Loving Memory - 14 April 2004 3 years have flown by. As I have done for the past couple of years, I woke up near to the hour when Mum passed to go through some photos of her and our family. Some of the photos are of her final hours and the funeral; so I only go through them once a year. I play the same Irish Folk Music we played that night in 2001. It's all a part of my remembrance process. This year my remembrance has been spoiled somewhat by the noise of heavy machinery in the background - and it's well after midnight. I hate cities. It's little wonder people are the way they are - there's no peace. The human world has become a very noisy, nasty place. I long for the end to society in its current form. Some see this as a pessimistic view on life, but I see it as realistic. I don't want to get too attached to our systems and associated trinkets that distract our attention from what we have done to our planet and species. This society is in its death throes and things will get a whole lot worse, but after it is finally dead, there will be something better to take its place - a society where people like my mother would have thrived and not have their lives taken away unfairly and prematurely. I hope I live to see it. I wish I could go back to the cottage on Mt. Tamborine where Mum chose to finish her time on this planet. It was a very peaceful, beautiful place. I never got to see Mum actually enjoy it, but I can imagine how much she would have liked it there. Somehow I get the feeling that she's still there... Some of the strongest memories I have this year of Mum's passing is of earlier in the evening when she was slipping in and out of consciousness. She was beginning to talk to someone. She would say things like "yes, I understand", "I'll try", "yes, but I'm scared". Who she was talking to, I don't know, but there were occasions during those final hours when the cottage felt like it was full of people, hundreds of them; yet there was only Mum, Dad, my brother and I. It wasn't a frightening feeling, just very disorienting and very strong. Perhaps it was induced by the emotion of the situation. Just after Mum passed, I experienced another very strange perception - the room seemed to clear. It's very hard to explain, but everything appeared to gain a new clarity - it was like a very light fog had lifted; everything was brighter. Again, perhaps it was the emotion of the situation. But perhaps it was something else?.. The memories of Mum's last days are beginning to fade a little and I find that somewhat sad as it was a very powerful time. The day to day crap of this existence overlays many important lessons we are handed along the pathway of life. It's like the tarnish that dulls a fine brass piece - it needs to be constantly dusted, buffed and polished in order for us to appreciate the true beauty of the piece and see it as the craftsman intended. I still "talk" to Mum just about every day. This year, as in the last couple of years, I hoped that Mum would come back and see me, even if it was just to let me know that she was happy. She didn't, but I like to think that she's got better things to do in her altered existence and she probably realizes that if she did visit me, I would hit her with a hundred questions about the afterlife :). When I was a child, I used to bombard my parents with questions; so I can understand Mum wanting a decent break :). I'm still not sure what happens to us after we die. What I do know is that energy cannot be destroyed, it can only change form. How much of "us" remains after we wear out the shell we have in this form is the question that I have pondered for many years. Do we truly disappear, or does our personality, our attachments and our memories somehow remain intact? Are we still conscious, but just in another form? Or are we only immortal for as long as someone else remembers us? The hour has passed. I
miss you Mum. I remember you; as do many others. You are immortal to us. |
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