The Tower That Wept

The Tower That Wept

Irene passed away the other day.  Just when we thought she would live for a very long time, her tired body said ‘enough’ and turned out the light. She was the ultimate metaphor – a true beacon of love and positivity that fed our sullen moments. 

If I say that ’86 was no age’ I mean it.  I am far from alone when I mourn the passing of a mind that was razor-sharp.  The joy she found in helping and the happiness she gave was free and boundless.

Even in hospital after a recent fall she received gentle rebukes from the nurses because she was up helping others.  I said ‘Irene’ for that was her name, but since 1974 she has been mum to me. I’m sure I drove her to distraction with my haphazard and wayward approach to life.  Still she loved me as the son she never had.  He two daughters (one being my wife) are a glowing tribute to her love and guidance and I cannot begin to understand their pain. They have an emotional journey to make.  One that I pray will land them safely on the shores of golden memories; for in 86 years she made plenty of those.  She created an emotional pension that will last us all our lives and serve us well as we try to live without her.

I still remember the rows in my own family and the accusing ‘your mother…’said in anger and with venom.  My mother in law was the antidote to that poison.  I’m sure she wasn’t perfect, but I cannot remember her condemning or gossiping about others.  She was a ‘go to’ if you needed love.  Not gentle, meek ‘there there’s ‘ but a refreshing stubbornness to see the good in others.  She never ranted, and the closest she came to criticism was ‘I wish…’ and that was always for the good.

When she became less stable we managed to convince her that she needed one or two grabbing handles; particularly when alighting from the throne in the small room….but could we get handles on the front door?  Stubbornly she fought age with all she had and if it is possible to be glad she has gone then I am.  Her body was beginning to fail told her it was time to go.  She often cried for others and seldom for herself.

She was a tower in the family…

The tower that wept