Three weeks ago, I felt a little uneasy having eye surgery. Thanks to skilled surgeons, all seemed to go well. That uneasiness turned to anxiety when my dearest mother was taken to hospital, following a minor stroke. This anxiety deepened further when my mum was readmitted to hospital, following earlier surgery. Deep anxiety turned to deeper sorrow when mum passed away peacefully, 48 hours later.
Today, my brother and I arranged Mum's funeral. It was a day neither of us wanted to happen. Being businesslike had to take priority - many wishes and details to consider - emotions put back to do this as efficiently as we could. I won't pretend it was easy. A big, big thank you to everyone for being so kind, supportive and understanding.
Then a Facebook status update from my eldest son: "2:1. That'll do." He has passed his degree! I never had any doubts - he worked hard! Suddenly, anxiety, sorrow and stress get tempered with feelings of pride and happiness. Soon, sadness follows. His Grandma won't be here to make a big fuss of my son. But I will do that in her place...I know she would have been very proud of him.
For the past weeks, my emotions have been like travelling on rush-hour public transport: crowded together; little room to manoeuvre or be comfortable. Yet I know that as a train, bus or tram nears outer suburbs, its load invariably lightens; leaving more room. I can almost hear the announcement:"....this is the service to Your life. The next stop(step) is Easier...."
Today, my brother and I arranged Mum's funeral. It was a day neither of us wanted to happen. Being businesslike had to take priority - many wishes and details to consider - emotions put back to do this as efficiently as we could. I won't pretend it was easy. A big, big thank you to everyone for being so kind, supportive and understanding.
Then a Facebook status update from my eldest son: "2:1. That'll do." He has passed his degree! I never had any doubts - he worked hard! Suddenly, anxiety, sorrow and stress get tempered with feelings of pride and happiness. Soon, sadness follows. His Grandma won't be here to make a big fuss of my son. But I will do that in her place...I know she would have been very proud of him.
For the past weeks, my emotions have been like travelling on rush-hour public transport: crowded together; little room to manoeuvre or be comfortable. Yet I know that as a train, bus or tram nears outer suburbs, its load invariably lightens; leaving more room. I can almost hear the announcement:"....this is the service to Your life. The next stop(step) is Easier...."
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