Page 6 of Good Sisters

‘Well, it’s clearly not working.’ I stated the obvious.

‘Pippa is extremely difficult to manage, Louise. It’s not black and white.’

‘Guys, can we focus on Mum for now?’ Gavin said, shooting us a warning look.

The music ended and I told Clara she could take her headphones off. It was time for my eulogy.

I had chaired conferences all over the world. I did pitches and presentations weekly. I had won all of the top debating prizes at university in England. I felt confident that I was the person best equipped to give this eulogy. We hadn’t even needed to discuss it as a family – everyone had just immediately looked at me when the eulogy was mentioned. I wanted to do a good job for us all. I felt calm and composed as I strode towards the altar and stood behind the microphone.

‘Good morning, everyone. We, the Devlin family, would like to thank you all for coming out today to pay your respects to Mum. She would have been delighted to see so many friends and family here to say goodbye and it is very comforting for us to see how loved she was.

‘Mum was a no-nonsense woman who devoted herself to raising her four children, supporting her husband and creating a lovely home.

‘Mum and Dad met fifty-three years ago at a dance and had been together ever since. We got to celebrate their fifty-second wedding anniversary with her in hospital, with cake and champagne. It was a very special day for all of us.

‘They had a happy marriage. I won’t lie and say there weren’t any disagreements, but they were always resolved quickly and they were devoted to each other.

‘Mum loved us four unconditionally, even when we were hard to love, but she was tough too. She never let us wallow when things went wrong, always told us to buck up and keep going. She said some days you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other until you get through a difficult time. She was a very wise woman.

‘But it was as a grandmother that Mum really excelled. She loved her grandchildren. She lit up when they were aroundher and was absolutely incredible with my daughter, Clara. Her patience and devotion to Clara were so …’

Oh, God. Keep it together, Louise, come on now. Control your voice. But I couldn’t stop it.

I didn’t stumble over my words, I didn’t sniffle or sob. I completely lost it. Emotion bubbled up and exploded out of me.

Tears cascaded down my face as the memory of Mum holding me in the park that day, shortly after Clara was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum, sprang into my mind. I saw her sitting patiently with Clara as she read her bird book over and over. I saw her hugging Clara – one of the few people Clara allowed to hug her. I saw her sitting outside the door of Clara’s bedroom when Clara had a meltdown, crying silently as she felt her granddaughter’s pain.

I couldn’t catch my breath, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Julie. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ she whispered. Handing me a tissue, Julie took my notes and finished my eulogy.

‘Her patience and devotion to my daughter were humbling to see. I got to know her in a different way. I got to know my mother on a much deeper level and I truly saw how selfless and compassionate she was. Her loss has left a huge hole in all our lives and we are going to miss her so much.’

Julie finished by thanking everyone who needed to be thanked and inviting everyone back to the golf club for lunch.

She turned and hugged me.

‘Thanks,’ I said. I was furious and deeply disappointed in myself. I hadn’t done my job. I hadn’t honoured Mum properly. Grief had just hit me like a tsunami. I fought back the tears.

‘You’re welcome.’ As if reading my mind Julie added, ‘And don’t you dare beat yourself up about this. You are human, Louise. You have feelings like everyone else and it’s good to let them out occasionally.’

I sniffled into a handkerchief. ‘What am I going to do without her, Julie? She was so good with Clara. Mum was one of the only people in the world who really understood her.’

‘I know, but look at it this way. Clara had her granny for almost ten years. That’s a lot. Mum’s love is in her heart. She’ll always have her precious memories.’

I began to cry again. ‘Jesus, stop. I need to get a grip here. We have a lunch to host. We need to look after Dad.’

Julie put her hands on my shoulders. ‘Louise, our mum died. We’re sad. We’re grieving. You hadn’t cried until now, and it was freaking me out. This is normal, this is healthy. I’m delighted you broke down. You need to let it out.’

I smiled at her. The middle sister, the peacemaker, the one I was closest to. ‘Well, don’t get used to it. The emotions are going right back inside now, under lock and bloody key.’ I dabbed my eyes and went to sit down as the priest said a final prayer. Clara reached over and patted my knee. I yearned to hold her hand but knew I mustn’t.

We stood up and walked down the aisle to the heartbreaking sound of a soloist singing Mum’s favourite song, Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’. Clara was beside me with her headphones on. Dad was on my other side, head bowed as we followed the coffin out of the church.

I exhaled deeply, trying to prepare myself for the flow of mourners lining up to shake our hands and talk to us. Clara’s small hand slipped into mine. I was so grateful. I needed her touch.

‘I wish Granny wasn’t gone,’ Clara shouted, forgetting she had her headphones on.

‘Me too, sweetheart.’

We stood outside the church on an overcast day and let the love, compassion and empathy of family and friends wash over us and carry us through as we said our final farewell to our lovely mum and began life without her.

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