It was my Mum’s funeral this afternoon.

A huge turnout at the crematorium, and so many thoughtful messages made it oddly easier to get through the day than I thought it would. My Mum touched many lives with her thoughtful spirit and generous approach to life.

I even managed to say a few words about her.

I know I’m not the first person to stand here and say that they struggled to find the words needed to encapsulate a life.

 

So… let’s start with the basics.

 

Mum was: 

a dutiful daughter

a protective sister

a loyal friend

a loving wife

a thoughtful aunt

a caring mother

a doting grandmother

 

Then, perhaps I could use some of the words others have kindly used to describe Mum? Formidable, talented, kind, loyal, cheeky, generous, stubborn, giving, fun and muxh more. 

 

Many of you highlighted her resilience and grace in how she dealt with the effects of her stroke. In some ways her attitude was just an extension of how she lived life, when it was good you enjoyed it, when it wasn’t, you just got on with it. She even found a quote for it; as Samuel Beckett once said: “I must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” To Mum, resilience was just part of her humanity, a resource she tapped into as and when she needed. Formidable indeed.

 

What else to say? Maybe I should talk about her hobbies, the arts and crafts she enjoyed; calligraphy, jewellery making, rug making, cross-stitching, crocheting, embroidery and … of course …   her beloved knitting. Did you know that some of her designer knitting was sold by Macy’s and Ralph Lauren?

 

I must talk of her beloved garden in Barloan Crescent, the lovingly selected plants, the pilfered cuttings, and the long hot summers where we’d play badminton over the clothes line, eat snacks in the “Jennie House” Mum made, or just lie on blankets on the grass, enjoying the hum of the insects and birds in the early evening sun after school. 

 

Ohhh how Mum loved the sun, should I talk about all their holidays? Where would I start?! Ile de Re,  Lake Garda, the cruises, camping in France… too many places to count.

 

I should mention her generosity; She always had an eye out for wee mindings for people, and a unique knack for spotting presents to be bought from the most unexpected places, storing them away for upcoming birthdays.

 

And it wasn’t always things being bought. For a few years I think every new baby in Dumbarton, and further afield, received a personalised, hand-knitted, tank-top. I can still remember the year she knitted seven tank-tops, for seven new babies, all called Lindsay, and each one was  spelled differently. Now, Mum loved a puzzle so I’ll leave you to figure that out.

 

Mum was always busy, always with a project of some sort on the go, always with something she wanted to do for someone else, rarely putting herself first.    In fact, it was a standing family joke that Mum was always last, a joke retold over and over as, more often than not, when we ate out as a family somehow hers was always the last meal to arrive at the table.

 

There are too many memories to mention but some stand out; the Hens – the collective of her closest friends of 67 years – who met regularly, their cackling ia vivid memory for Jennie and I. Her love of music, starting with her discovery of a small band called The Beatles (who were supporting Roy Orbison the first time she and Doris saw them), the omnipresent piano, the singing in choirs, and the constant stream of singer/songwriters that were a backdrop to many a drive to Grans house Rutherglen.

 

It’s hard to know where to stop. There were jigsaws, and nursery committees, old movies and library books, the Inner Wheel, there were choirs, and quizzes, and Coronation Street, and musicals, and George Clooney, and lots and lots of coffee and cake with Dad.

 

Yes, it’s been hard to try and sum up a such a full life, especially one lived so vividly.

 

But there is one thing that Jennie and I realised will always remind us of Mum, and we think those that know her well, will agree. 

 

It’s something that has been passed down to us and a thing I unwittingly used whilst trying to figure out what to say today. 

 

There I was pondering old memories, jotting down random thoughts, trying to let my mind wander in the hope of finding some way to collate the essence of Mum and, after a few moments, I sat back to look at what I’d written, and the answer was right in front of me.

 

I’d written a list.

 

Ohhhh how Mum loved a list.

 

Christmas morning meant stockings to unpack and presents to unwrap BUT not until Mum was there to make a list of who gave us what, a list she’d then present back to Jennie and I on Boxing Day, before sending us to our rooms to write our thank you notes.

 

Spring time in Barloan Crescent meant lists (plural!) for the next big project in the garden, Dad and I rolling our eyes as Mum came up with yet another rockery to build… 

 

And through all her various placements at different primary schools there were lists of lesson plans, class activities, and school reports to write.

 

Holidays meant lists of things to pack, lists of places to visit, lists of who to buy souvenirs for… 

 

And rifling through old notebooks of hers just the other day I found yet more lists; craft projects that will never be started, lists of books that won’t be read, lists of presents that won’t get bought for people she will no longer visit… 

 

So. many. lists.

 

And it’s no wonder really, with a life as full as hers, that she had to use lists to keep things organised and on track. 

 

Because one thing that Mum hated, and as she used to remind me ‘hate’ is a very strong word, Mum hated letting people down, so anything or anyone she deemed important was added to a list so she wouldn’t forget.

 

If you were ever the beneficiary of any small item of joy, any offer of help, or if she ever assisted you in the past then you should know that at some point you featured in one of her lists and there is no higher honour I can offer you.

 

Mum was many things to many people:

a dutiful daughter

a protective sister

a loyal friend

a loving wife

a thoughtful aunt

a caring mother

a doting grandmother

   

And THAT list is the one that should live on in our hearts as we remember her, and do our best to honour her by living our lives the way she did. Without fuss, with humility, but always with a sense of humour.