My dearest Mum
I can approach my farewell letter to you in one of two ways. I can feel bitter and angry about an evil, debilitating disease that finally destroyed you. Or I can look back on a life that was lived to the full and feel proud of what you achieved and grateful for the legacy you have left behind.
I’m going with the latter.
The last couple of months have been difficult. I have watched you struggle as dementia finally gained control. But you soldiered on, determined to fight this destructive disease with dignity and pride. I smiled when I saw you pull your skirt down if it rode above your knees. I loved the way you held your saucer and drank your tea like the lady you were.
But eventually the time comes when even the strongest and most resilient individual gives up the fight and goes to sleep!
So let us take a walk down memory lane.
Do you remember our school holidays when you took friends and cousins for picnics on the beach? How you laughed when a man drove past, opened his window and shouted ‘imagine having a family that size!’
And then there were the charity concerts you organised at the church. M and I were given the lead roles so you could ensure we learnt our lines (you were a perfectionist) but always very proud of us. Your three children were musical acts as well! We entertained ‘old dears’ in care homes, played our guitars and sang in community centres. At other times son D played the violin, I played the piano and M had the lovely singing voice.
You were never one to let the grass grow under your feet! You were always on a mission. You loved playing tennis and your glass was always half full! Actually, most times it overflowed!
When we had all flown the nest you started on your biggest challenge, to become a published author. You didn’t just get one book published! You got over a dozen with a number of them translated into many different languages!
You wrote articles for magazines and newspapers. You had your own column in a Kimberley newspaper, the Diamond Fields Advertiser, calling yourself Aunty Di. After moving to Johannesburg, you had a column in the Randburg Sun where you were known as Aunty Sue. You loved children and your grandchildren loved visiting because ‘Granny was such fun’!
I could go on and on! You achieved more than most people could ever dream of! The eldest in a family of ten, at ninety, you outlived a number of your siblings. You and Dad had the perfect marriage and I know that the years spent in Knysna were some of your happiest. Dad was a well known and respected wild life artist. You both had your ‘day jobs’ and met up at meal times. You read a chapter of your book to Dad and he would advise. In turn, you critiqued his paintings. A union made in heaven!
You were a beautiful woman and exuded confidence. Not many ladies in their fifties would embark on a modelling career. Well, you did and became a much sought after ‘Granny’ model!
You always had high standards and stuck to them! Every morning you would apply makeup and ensure your hair was immaculate. M and I have not let you down! We have followed by example.
You had a wicked sense of humour! When your sister visited the pair of you would be in hysterics, much to the annoyance of Dad. He would eventually leave the room, shaking his head, completely baffled! I can remember how, as a family, we laughed until tears streamed down our faces and our stomachs ached! And then we’d dance, for hours, music blaring, singing at the tops of our voices. Just the girls! Dad and D never got it!
So, it is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye. The care you received was exemplary. I cannot praise those ‘angels’ enough. There is a special place in heaven for them. I am so grateful that you suffered no pain. Your passage from this world into the next was peaceful and dignified. I feel privileged that I was able to be there with you.
Rest in peace, Mum. I love you ❤️
Jenny Burrell 