the eulogy I never gave

Today is Mother’s Day but, as I write this, none of my family has remembered.

I don’t really mind. I know I’ll get an embarrassed apology at some point later today or tomorrow. I do know they love me.

But I’m going to remember it for my own mum.

A couple of months before her death, she told me I didn’t need to deliver a eulogy at her funeral. It was the only time I can remember her talking about what we all knew was coming.

And I think, perhaps subconsciously, that gave me permission to not really think about her funeral at all. Maybe that was what she intended.

When the minister asked me for some personal details to incorporate into the funeral service I drew a complete blank. I couldn’t think of anything beyond the usual platitudes.

But in the 12 years since, I’ve started to articulate a few of the things my lovely mum passed on to me.

I'm working up to writing a eulogy. If that's the right word. Eulogies focus on the positive things ("eu" = "beautiful", thanks mum), but some of what she taught me, I learned by counter-example. I know she wouldn't mind me saying that.

One thing I keep coming back to is how young she was. She got pregnant in her last year of school and had me when she was 19. When I look back at the things she got wrong, and the things she got right, she was just so young.

Being a parent is hard. We all do the best we can with the tools we have. And sometimes we just have to pretend we know what we're doing, when actually we don't have a clue.