Hello, It’s Me..

Everybody remembers the last conversation they had with a loved one before that person died.. It doesn’t matter if the conversation was in person or via the phone. It was those words, spoken or unspoken, that stay with you.

Princes William and Harry were holidaying in Scotland with their father when they last spoke to their mother. Diana was in Paris but she always found time to speak to the two boys who were her life. On the 30th of August she phoned her sons. William and Harry remember this last conversation as being too brief because they were eager to be doing other stuff. They were behaving as young boys do. They were not to know that in a few hours time the mother that they loved so much would be dead. That last phone call haunts them and I understand it because I too am haunted by my last phone call with my mother.

Death.

Death is tricky. Sometimes you get prior notice that he’s coming for a loved one. If death is inevitable, then surely this is the best scenario because nothing is left unsaid? The living can carry on comforted that they got to say goodbye and the dying can let go knowing that there is nothing left to say. That’s the kind of death I want. To leave on my terms. However, Death so often takes our loved ones without warning. There is no opportunity to tell them one last time how much you love them. They are simply – gone.

Death gave no warning about my mother.

The last time I spoke to Mum was the night before she died. I’d been in hospital having a procedure done under general anesthetic and I’d not been home long before she phoned to see how I was. I was woozy from the anesthetic and I just wanted to sleep so I fobbed her off and told her I’d speak to her the following morning. That was the last time I ever spoke to her. How could I know that she would be dead before I woke up the next morning?

Mum hadn’t been ill, except for a “bit of a tummy bug” which she’d mentioned in passing that week. The ‘bug’ turned out to be Bronchial Pneumonia. If she was suffering, nobody knew, because she didn’t say anything. She didn’t ‘do’ illness. Illness was an inconvenience which interfered with hair appointments. She couldn’t be done with it and in the end her stubbornness was her undoing.

What happens in these circumstances is that you replay that conversation over and over in your mind. You don’t remember the other conversations you’ve had with that person. You just remember those last words. You rewrite the script or at least you try to because you feel cheated or guilty or both. You feel like you are the worst person in the world because of that last conversation. You’d give anything to be able to go back in time and do it differently. To this day, I don’t remember if I told her I loved her. Normally, I would have, as I had ended every other phone call, but I was semi-sedated. I most probably did because I ended every conversation the same way. The problem is that it was often like reciting the Lords Prayer, as in, something that you say without actually thinking about it. You know?

My mother was no longer at the end of the phone but that didn’t stop me dialing her number. I needed to hear her voice and I knew where I could find her, for a little while longer, at least..

Hi, it’s me, I’m not here at the moment but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

I lost count of how many times I rang number Mum’s number to listen to this message. Even though I knew that the phone was ringing out into a house which was no longer a home, it didn’t matter because it was still her voice and it comforted me.

Given the chance, our last conversation would have been very different. Then again, there is a belief that things happen for a reason. What if I was to go back and hear something in my mother’s voice which alerted me to the fact that something was wrong? What then if I was to intervene only for the outcome to be that for the rest of her life she was frail and dependent on others? If you knew my mother you’d understand how much she’d have hated that. As hard as it is to lose someone, if we look hard enough, we will see a blessing in some form. Sometimes we just need to look at things from their perspective instead of our own.

It’s unrealistic to treat every conversation as if it’s the last you will ever have. Life gets in the way and with the best will in the world there are always going to be occasions where we have to cut conversations short. However, no matter how brief a conversation may be, there is always time enough to say the only thing that really matters.

β€œThe news of life is carried via telephone. A baby’s birth, a couple engaged, a tragic car accident on a late night highway – most milestones of the human journey, good or bad, are foreshadowed by the sound of a ringing.” Mitch Albom ~ The First Phone Call From Heaven

mumturnedmom

18 thoughts on “Hello, It’s Me..

  1. We received a call. Mum had remarried by then and it was her now ex-husband who informed us she had died at home due to complications following a minor RAT in which she had injured her foot.
    What RTA? We had not been told of an accident nor of an injury.
    There was always a question mark over the actual cause of death…which turned out to be related to a possible overdose of painkillers. I believe the verdict was “unexplained”. What sort of official explanation is that?
    Like you, I remember feeling that one of my constants had gone. In truth she and I were never very very close. She had not lived with us since I was 8. I was about 26 when she died. My only regret was that she’d never seen me after I joined the fire brigade. Oh well. Regardless, she had always been there and suddenly…was not.
    I feel your pain mate. 😦

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Such sad words but so true. My father died unexpectedly and my last words to him were about a job interview I was having. He wished me luck and said he loved me. The next day, the day of my interview, he was dead. I wish I could have said more to him but whenever I’m feeling really low I remember him wishing me luck and I carry that with me.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh Tracy, I completely get this. But, however brief that conversation was, you had it and, more importantly, remember it. It might not seem like it, but that is a wonderful, and lucky, thing. Because, I can’t remember the last conversation I had with my dad. It was weeks before he died, he had dropped me back to uni, and I have a horrible feeling that I said no to an offer of lunch because I wanted to see friends instead. I don’t think I spoke to him again after that. It’s the biggest regret in my life that I wasn’t closer to him. Life, and death, are bloody unfair at times. Much love, and thank you so much for sharing with #ThePrompt xx

    Liked by 1 person

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