Wednesday, 24 March 2010

How does one say this?

I've been struggling with composing this post ... no sooner do I put a few words down, when I quickly delete it all again. I've questioned whether I should mention it at all ... and yet if I don't, I feel false by carrying on without saying anything!?! I'm trying to bite the bullet and put the words quite simply. How does anyone share sad news? I honestly have no idea how to say it other than to say ... I am sad, very sad because my mum lost her battle with CAD (Cold Agglutinin Disease) and passed away last Thursday.

Suffice it to say, I won't be using my public homeschooling blog as an outlet to share my feelings and dissect my family's experience in losing our mum/wife/aunty/sister/cousin/friend/colleague/neighbour, but I felt the need to put something here to acknowledge the importance of my mum and her role in my life and that of her mokopuna.

Mum's tangi was a true testament of her life. In typical Māori fashion we, the immediate family, extended family and friends, joined together to celebrate every aspect of mum's life. Her devotion to her family, her faith, her culture and her work. I wish I could paint a picture in words just how splendidly we honoured our mum. A tangihanga is one of the greatest ways Māori share every emotion. We cry, we laugh, we sing, we eat, we share stories and we honour our tupuna over the course of 3-5 days. It's a power one can only understand through experience. Our many relations rally together with speed to be with us and for that I thank them all. For all the behind-the-scenes mahi that works like a well-oiled machine to make light the task of holding an event such as this, is a testament to Ngāti Whakaue in its entirety and again, I say thank you. To Father Mark for his beautiful words of comfort and tireless attendance at the marae and special words during the Requiem Mass/Missa pro defunctis (Latin, "Mass for the deceased") and of course at the urupa when we finally laid mum to rest.

I thank all the wonderful nurses and doctors who rallied around us, saying what a pleasure it was to know and care for our mum. When they heard mum was in ICU many of the staff came through to show their aroha. Our mum who endured all the pain without complaint. The hospital staff couldn't believe our mum would be apologetic for being a nuisance to them rather than complaining of the pain she was suffering.

Oh yes, we had a strong mother alright and it's hard to comprehend she's no longer here, physically.

As much as my mother instilled her strength in me, I am sitting here thinking ... 'What am I going to do without my mum?' My mum, whom I spoke with practically every single day and shared in everything I did. You know, I will probably still look at the clock every morning and at 10 o'clock I'll say, "I can phone mum now" because that's what I did.

I do have one comforting thought though. My mum knew I loved her. She knew her mokopuna loved her. She knew her sons loved her. She knew even more so, just how much her husband loved her. My dad ... my dad ... yes, this is now a time to tautoko my dad.

Thanks for dropping by
ka kite ano

1 comment:

  1. Well put Maree. Well put. I know it won't be the concise articulate summation of all you feel but this post is so well put. I hear you.