I thought closure would help me.

How? Be less sad, maybe. Feel less guilty, hopefully. How though? By seeing my mum and saying to her all the things I want to say to her. Like what? Like I love her. I wish I had done better by her. I wish I had been there when she passed. My biggest regret.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I met up with niece number 3. Whilst having breakfast, the usual conversation about work, business, food, and life somehow veered to closure. Why? Who knows? But, it did. So, I asked her if she felt she achieved closure after her dad, brother number 1, passed.  

Brother number 1 had fourth stage lung cancer, and battled it for over a year. The family was informed of his imminent passing. It was in December 2023. The hospital had discharged him on Sunday and he left us on Tuesday. Actually, sister number 3 and I were there with him on that Tuesday but we didn’t know that our goodbyes that evening were our final farewell to him. The memory of brother number 1 miming to us as if to ask if we had eaten, a caring gesture that’s so him, is etched in my mind.

After we had left, his family and brother number 2 had the opportunity to speak to him, be with him in his final moments. The reason why I had asked niece number 3 about closure.

Her answer was yes and no. She then related to us about her aunt, her mum’s younger sister, who was diagnosed with cancer and passed eight years ago. She left behind three young children. Niece number 3 said back then she wondered how her young cousins must have felt knowing their mum had only a certain time to live. Is knowing better or not?

Having gone through a similar experience, she qualified her answer. Yes – because she did get to say all the things she wanted to her dad, and there was an element of closure. No – because the images of that day are so sad, so hard that they don’t go away. Speaking to niece number 3 helped me somewhat.

I also thought of the many times sister number 3 and I have talked about my mum’s final moments. I wasn’t there. Sister number 3 was. Her sentiment is aligned with niece number 3. The feeling and image of my mum’s life ebbing away as she held her in her arms is very hard to think about and not think about. It’s there, embedded in her head, for eternity.

When sister number 3 recites those precious moments, it’s the same sequence and scenario. She was mending the nett curtains in my mum’s bedroom when she heard her name called. My mum complained of chest pains, which she has had many times before. Compos mentis, and still talking, she agreed to have her cure-all ‘omum’ water and Chinese medicine, in case they helped ease the pain. And, to contact Dr Rose for advice.

There was a moment of reprieve that actually prompted sister number 3 to think and say aloud to my mum that they had escaped/pulled through once again. Not so. We’ve had so many very hairy-scary episodes that culminated in that Sunday evening of 19 May, 2024.

Back to my closure. I know what sister number 3 had experienced, and is still experiencing was/is traumatic. I also know it must have been a very difficult situation to be in and deal with. But I could only see it from my point of view. I was absent, not there when my mum needed me. Hence, I failed in my responsibilities because I gave her my assurance, a guarantee that I will always be there for her.

In my simplistic deduction, if I was present with my mum I would have kept my word, and I would have had closure. My biggest regret. Anyways, it’s taken me more than a year to begin, yes, to begin to realise that is not quite true or how it works or whatever. There’s no closure, and what does it even mean. Close what? Feelings, thoughts, memories, tears, sadness.

I got so caught up not only in my huge regret of not being present for my mum when she passed, but also with other regrets, the should-haves, and could-haves, while she was alive that I thought closure, again whatever that means, was my panacea or saviour.  And, that’s why I want so desperately to ‘see’ her and speak to her. I still wish I can. But, less so, I think.

My mum was so much a part of me and my life. Still is. I will think of her, speak to her, reminisce, laugh, and cry for as long as I want and feel like. No closure needed.