I envy Pam her loving relationship with her Mum - I was never very sad when mine died and felt guilty about that to begin with, but, not only did she have a very severe dementia illness, but she was not an easy character and there were periods of my life that felt very difficult in her company. Now my Dad, who died last summer.....that is a different matter entirely. Like Pam's Mum he loved liquorice and I nearly bought him some this Easter - when I realised what I was doing I put the box back on the shelf.

I was one of the lucky ones to have a wonderful mum, and who was also extremely intelligent, had travelled a lot and had a very open view of the world. Never ever did she make me feel guilty of living in the UK- and always said she'd rather know me happy far away (not so far now, but it was in the 70s- when airfares were so expensive).

I was so relieved for her when she died- but so sad she'd lived 10 years beyond her wishes, blind and totally dependent, and hating every minute of it. She died aged 94- but was so fit and active until 84 when everything went wrong. We actually decided to move back here to help her, and dad- but she died a couple of weeks before we moved here- which was so sad as we knew we had left it too late (couldn't be helped- had to wait to both retire).

I still miss her terribly- but I am so glad she is beyond the pain and indignities she had to suffer. She was a member of Exit and wanted to go- but my dad begged her not to. He was very fit until aged 92, and died aged 96 of a broken heart, 2 months after her. So here we were- and we did feel orphaned in a way because we had just changed our lives completely and moved countries to be there for them ... and we were left on our own- with daughters and grand-children in the UK.

No regrets though- and I know I am very lucky to have had wonderful parents, both in their very own and very different ways.

Where are you now ✴granjura✴

I do understand what the word 'cynical' means jingl and I can see that you might think that.
I just don't agree with you, that's all.

Where are you now granjura

I just learnt how to do the bold thing

Having read through the posts I think how wonderful it must be when the relationship with one's mother is so close, loving and mutually supportive. I can imagine the loss when she dies. My husband's mother died nearly 3 years ago and the feelings mentioned in many of the posts are ones he has experienced, feeling he could not have had a better mother. However, it is not the same for all of us. My mother is still alive at 91 and, sadly, we have never had a good relationship. As a child I'd ask her why she didn't like me and, although I don't ask the question now, it is still there at the back of my mind. My mother is someone who has always been pessimistic, negative and critical. I sometimes say she operates on the basis of why say a nice word if something negative or cruel can be found to say. No achievement of mine has ever been praised and I have often heard from people the critical things she has said about me to them. My husband describes her as the coldest woman he has ever met and I have no memory of ever being kissed or hugged by her. I have 2 adult children, 7 grandchildren and I try so very hard to have relationships with them which are supportive and caring, to praise what they achieve and to be there for them when needed, to take pleasure in their company and hopefully be a pleasure to be around for them.

Pam was so lucky to have had her Mum so long. We lost ours in our teens, I had to break the news to my little brother, and it was only twelve days after we lost our grandmother with whom we lived. Mum had acute myeloid leukaemia. I nursed her before she became too ill. She never saw us married, or our children or grandchildren. She missed all the fun of their growing up. She would have been so proud of all of them. Our eldest daughter was named after her. I think of her so often, so did my brother. I never cease to miss her. I see her in two of my granddaughters, and one of my daughters is very like her. If only she had been here to enjoy life, to be taken care of as she cared for us. The niece of one of my friends is seriously ill with AML, and it still wrenches my heart to know what she and her husband and little children are going through. Be happy Pam that you were able to repay your Mum's love as a grown- up, instead of losing her as a thoughtless teen. I have so many regrets, not always being the daughter I wish so much I had been.

I emphathise completely Marion6. My mother died when my children were very young, but I can't say I greatly missed her. I do envy those of you who had such wonderful mothers, you are / were blessed.

Mishap missed your post, sorry

Mishap, Marion6, Aka

And Kitty

I loved both my parents deeply. My mother died when she was in her mid eighties and I missed her for all the reasons Pam mentions. No- one else is as interested in the minutiae of our family life as our mums. But, I felt that she had had a long life and had lived to see her grandchildren grow up and seen my success as a professional woman and a mother.
My darling father died when he was 60 and I was 30 and when my first born was only four months old. This was more than 30 years ago now, but I still feel so sad that he didn't live to enjoy his retirement and his grandchildren. The hole he left in my life has never been filled and his untimely death has made me very aware of my own mortality throughout my adult life.
So, let us rejoice when we have parents who have lived to become old.

Like Jinglebellsfrocks and Sonsybesom, I lost my mother very early on in my life, 62 years ago when I was 12 and she was 45. I was an only child and two weeks later lost a dearly loved uncle - two very close bereavements in two weeks. During my mum's last illness I was sent to live with my aunts (her sisters) and passed our house every day on the way home from school to where they lived 12 miles away. Each afternoon, she would be got up from her bed so that she could sit in the bay window of the bedroom to wave to me on the top deck of the bus as it zoomed by. Apart from that five second wave each afternoon, that was the only contact I had with her - I had a last cuddle with her nine weeks earlier when I was despatched to my aunts. I wasn't even allowed to go to her funeral. Even now, after all these years, I could weep for that little girl - my father in his own state of numbed grief never mentioned her again as long as he lived. And when I returned to school (she died during the Easter holidays) not a single teacher said a word to me or checked on that grieving little girl - how different from today when the counsellors are on hand so easily and quickly. How I missed her when my own daughters were born. Strangely enough though, I still feel she's around somewhere keeping an eye on me - I've certainly had a very happy fulfilled life since. So Pam, count yourself so lucky that you had your mum until you were in your 60s - what a wonderful gift!

grammar - that is very sad As I said above, my sister was only 14 when our mum died. Mum died suddenly in the night - my sister was living with her at the time. As you say, no counselling, just back to school to get on with it. As my mother was separated from my dad (he was a violent alcoholic who she was terrified of) it was up to us older siblings to try to do the best we could for the younger ones. My sister still recalls to this day going back to school with no mention of it and no support from the teachers and being known from then on as 'the one whose mum died'. My mother had a terrible childhood and a terrible marriage. When people refer to their mother as being a 'difficult woman' if there could be underlying reasons which the mothers have never spoken about. I think my daughter thinks of me as a 'difficult woman'. She knows I had a pretty horrendous childhood but doesn't know the half of it to be honest, as I wouldn't dream of burdening her with it. Sometimes we need to walk a mile in someone else's shoes. Of course there are many unpleasant people out there but maybe there are reasons sometimes.

My mum died in 1981 she was only 67, I was 27. We had never had an easy relationship and I was always aware that I was the baby who wasn't planned or even wanted. After my first son was born, things became easier between us. She adored him and had she lived I knew she would have spoiled him rotten. I still grieve for the time we never had together. I like to think that despite our difficult relationship we may have grown to like and maybe even love one another through my little boy.

grammargran and KatyK for you both - how sad.

I was only two when my mother died, so have no memories of her at all...

Ana

Ana and for all of you with such sad stories.

Thank you Ana - sad for you too as at least I do have some memories and in spite of you being so young and having none, it's still been someone missing from your life.

KatyK to you, too - thank you. You are so right, I try never to be judgemental, lots of people are very adept at hiding things under a very hard exterior.

I don't really care if Pam's blog was promotion for her new book, I related to her words, especially as last night on Panorama and the awful stories in the press about old people in residential homes, I just could not watch, as I was a carer for my Mum for 10 years, succumbed to putting her in a nursing home for 1 week of respite, where they treated her appallingly. I had to take her out of there after 3 days!

I miss my mother still, after 3 years without her, and often have a cry when on my own, because she was a lovely lady and in that one week in the nursing home I felt I had let her down right at the end. She died a week later.

grammargran that is very sad. In those days many families did not like to talk to children about such issues and thought that keeping the children away from the reality was the best thing to do.

My own parents were decidedly of that opinion. Without exposing a young child to the worst realities of your mum's illness, it would have been kinder to have been able to explain what was happening to her and to offer you comfort.

A mum in my kids primary school in the late 1980s died after a severe stroke when the girl was about 10. She was sent away to avoid the funeral.

It really is not the best way to handle the situation, I rather think that relatives own fears about facing up to how they can help a child to deal with their grief gets in the way of really helping them. I hope suspect rather more families are enlightened about this these days.

Jilly I'm sure you did your very best for your Mum, and that she knew that too. 10 years is a long time to care for someone

HMHnanna- as my name says, back in my native Jura mountains, where I was born and 'bred'- left aged 19 to go to London to work (Beecham's as a PA/assistant translator)- met OH (Brit) and stayed for 39 years, SW London, then Staffs for a few years and the rest in East Leics). Been back here (still with Brit OH) for past 5 years.