CELIA DRUMMOND
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The Best $7.05 I've Ever Spent

3/21/2016

34 Comments

 
Picture
Walking from the hospital to the car last Christmas morning, I was still wearing my Santa hat, unable to contain the tears. I was overwhelmed by the realisation that my beautiful mum was going to die.
 

It’s been 12 weeks since she died. I found her wallet recently. There was her driver’s licence, her credit cards, and exactly $7.05 in coins.​

​Also tucked away in her distinctive handwriting on a folded up piece of paper were the mobile phone numbers and addresses of my dad and siblings. Mum didn’t have a mobile, nor did she have any social media accounts. She didn’t know how to use a computer. Still, she knew how to contact the people she loved the most. How much I would love to receive one of her beautiful cards, perfectly picked for whatever the occasion in question, in my letter box just one more time. She would send a card with a sweet note inside, often with a scratchie or two included, to celebrate birthdays, new jobs, or just to send love.
Beautiful mum was in a great deal of pain. “I don’t want you to see me like this” she said to my little brother, our partners and I, as we sat around her bed attempting to share some yuletide cheer on Christmas Day. It was only three days earlier in a different ward, before her last round of radiotherapy to treat her bowel cancer that we were with mum, celebrating her 69th birthday with other family and friends. She loved all her family being around her, laughing, telling jokes, and being together. We made Christmas Day plans, asked for the secret Pavlova roll recipe. For a present we had bought her some Cotton On shorts and t-shirt as requested. She smiled. She loved them, as all mothers love presents from their children. A flicker of a thought passed through my head, “When will I see mum wear these?” but I dismissed it.
 
Three days after a very sad Christmas, the funeral director was sitting at the kitchen table, the same table we all had sat at as a family more often than not sharing another one of mum’s culinary masterpieces. He was helping us with the funeral arrangements; our beautiful mum had wished to be cremated. “A lot of people like to dress their loved ones in a favourite item of clothing” he offered, gently. Mum was wearing a lot of grey in the year or so before she died. This wasn’t her. I recently re-read her diary from 1988 to remind me. That was the year our parents took us 5 kids up to Port Douglas. I was only 4 but have wonderful memories of that year.
 
Most of my family memories are wonderful. I’ve been fortunate to grow up in a loving household, full of laughter and shielded from sadness. My grandmother died on my birthday yet my parents didn’t tell me until the day after. They didn’t want me to not enjoy my favourite birthday meal – chicken schnitzel and mashed potato. In the 1988 Port Douglas diary, mum recounts driving to Cairns on that scenic Captain Cook Highway for clothing patterns. Looking through photo albums from that time, the day after mum died, there she was in gorgeous aqua, peaches and classic eighties colour block patterns.
 
I know now that mum’s experience of being a nurse meant that she was aware of what was happening to her body but didn’t tell us. I have been feeling incredibly guilty about this. I often think, “What could I have done? Should there have been more visits? More cards? More love? How could I possibly have given my most favourite woman in the whole entire world more than the unconditional kind?”
 
Mum never told me she was unwell. She would always deflect the conversation. I am sure it was because she didn’t want me to be upset, or to worry. Mum didn’t want to get old. I am slowly beginning to accept that this is the way she wanted the last chapter of her life to play out. She always always put everyone else first.
 
Her illness manifested itself in other ways. She drank a lot. She developed serious anxiety. She didn’t leave the house. She stopped wearing the colourful clothing she was known for. As the funeral director waited at the kitchen table, my brother, in tears, brought out the summery blue Cotton On shorts and white t-shirt emblazoned with silver stars. The cancer, the drinking, the anxiety had stopped. Mum could wear colour again.
 
Constantly talking about death and dying can be depressing. But we need to talk about it. We need to share. I have discovered in these horrible fresh weeks that sharing photos and memories of my mum via social media is very therapeutic and helpful in the mourning process. As a family we decided to announce mum’s funeral details online, as well as via a traditional death notice in the newspaper. I worry that I am becoming one of those “over sharers” online, but an unexpected result was receiving heartfelt messages from old school friends whom I hadn’t seen in years, with memories they had of my mum. I often think of the irony that mum never used social media, but now this platform is helping me with my grief.
 
I will never forget how mum looked in her last days in the palliative car ward, those hospital machines beeping, that hospital smell so distinct, mum conscious for a few seconds, us straining to know that she could hear us so we could tell her that we loved her so much. I stroked her hair as she took some of her last breaths; she had two purple hair clips from Woolworths in her hair. My hair is too thick for them but I cannot bear to throw them out. Recalling the experience of someone dying can consume your memory of the person you love and miss. I never want to forget this beautiful time that my immediate family was lucky to share, but I am also paranoid I will forget the beautiful happy memories of my beloved mummy.

​So I draw. I examine the gorgeous handiwork on the dolls she made for the Mirabel foundation. I over share Instagram photos of a gorgeous young mum with a love heart emoticon. I write blog posts on my emotional state. I wave to the Frankston & Peninsula Airport Shuttle Bus. I take photos of nasturtiums. I catch myself nearly buying the latest Women’s Weekly at Woolworths to bring to my next visit to mum. I walk up the Flinders Street Station steps and remember when my brother and I got separated from mum that time. My heart aches when I see a mother and daughter on the street. I make sandwiches for my dad with lettuce my mum grew. I replay the two voicemail messages I have from mum on my phone when I have had one too many beers on a Friday night. I exchange wide eyed glances with my dad when he tells me he had a whiff of mum’s perfume at 3am, then a few minutes later heard me talking and wailing in my sleep, that night I slept over to keep him company. I had dreamt mum had come in to kiss me goodnight.
 
It’s only been 12 weeks. I know the literal emotional rollercoaster will continue. Despite my dad and I going through the gut wrenching experience of picking up mum’s ashes – how can such an influential life be condensed into such a small box? - I still feel like it’s just at the ‘Mum’s only gone on a long overseas holiday and will be back soon’ stage. I am also more acutely aware that more people I love are going to die in the future. I want to be present and cherish time spent with every person I love. I want to care less about things of no consequence, such as crazy work colleague email etiquette. In recent weeks I've done a lot of plan cancelling with friends in favour of eating Nutella out of jar on the couch nights. I struggle with wanting to embrace life’s experiences and wanting to hide away, as I am so sad that I cannot share these times with my mum.
 
It is true you find out who your real friends are when the chips are down. My four brothers and I have strong, supportive partners. I have such great people around that know when I need space, and when I need an ear to chew. I am so amazed and proud that my beautiful mum bore five children! How thankful I am to have siblings and a lovely, sweet dad, my favourite people who help prop each other up, who help share memories of our lost maternal love. I want to send them birthday cards, cards for new jobs, and cards for everyday, any day love. With the $7.05 I found in beautiful mum’s wallet, I bought my eldest brother a card and a couple of scratchies for his recent birthday. He won $3. I know mum would have loved that. And that makes me smile.
 

An edited version of this piece was published on The Huffington Post Australia. You can read it here.
34 Comments
Tanya
4/18/2019 04:53:23 pm

Celia, that was absolutely beautiful ❤️

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Celia
4/18/2019 04:53:56 pm

Thank you Tanya 💜

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Kristie
4/18/2019 04:54:16 pm

I won a $2 scratchie once, but I never picked it up!!! Over share all you want oxox

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Celia
4/18/2019 04:54:30 pm

I am sure you can still claim your winnings :)

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Mike
4/18/2019 04:54:44 pm

Celia, that was beautiful and moving. Your Mum must be so proud of you. You have a real gift with words that you must use. x

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Celia
4/18/2019 04:55:55 pm

Thanks Mike 💜 Writing is so enjoyable and in this case so therapeutic. Xxx

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Mel
4/18/2019 04:57:19 pm

Celia this is a beautiful piece of writing and brought tears to my eyes. I'm glad that you are able to do this to help with your grief and I'm sure there are many others that read this and it helps them with theirs. Your mum would be very proud of you. have been thinking of you quite a lot these last few months. Thanks for sharing this and I look forward to reading the next piece. Lots of love to you and the family xox

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Celia
4/18/2019 04:59:10 pm

Thanks Mel, thanks for reading and all your support, it means a lot! 💜

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Nick Ralph
4/18/2019 05:00:27 pm

Beautiful. Thanks for sharing Celia.

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:02:37 pm

Thanks for reading Nick xx

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Deb
4/18/2019 05:03:49 pm

Celia, the memories will never leave you.
When my Mum died in 1999 I'm sure she came back to visit. It was a dream perhaps, but so real to me and I woke with a fright, but a bright light around and a sense of love. You will never forget your beautiful Mum and all these years later I still want to pick up the phone to have a Mummy/daughter whinge. It's natural, it's sad, but it does get easier.
Love you Ceely, you're a dear girl

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:05:26 pm

Love you Deb 💜 There's nothing like mummy love! X

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Anna Scaramuccia
4/18/2019 05:06:54 pm

Beautiful Celia, just beautiful and you'll never forget your mum-you will have noticed the photo I have of mine on the fridge door-she still tells me I'm cooking things the wrong way-that's mothers for you!
I'm so glad that my first-born has found such a sensitive lady as you to be his life partner-just wish you were nearer!
Mamascara xxx

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:08:33 pm

Thanks mamascara xxxx He is indeed a very lucky man hehe. Love you!

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Ilana
4/18/2019 05:10:12 pm

Wiping the tears from my eyes,
Celia, you are so special and so was your Mum XXX

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George Moutafis
4/18/2019 05:11:55 pm

So sorry about your mum Celia. Well written and I'm sure the happy memories of your mum will be the ones you hold on to.

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Eurife Abadin
4/18/2019 05:13:40 pm

Very sorry about your mum Celia. This is truly beautiful.

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Dad
4/18/2019 05:14:39 pm

I'm a bit better than your mother at the social media thing, but I missed this one somewhere along the way. Toni Rhoden put me onto it. Funny I should read your beautiful thoughts on the day that the surgeon told me that, as a result of my recent umbilical hernia operation, I no longer have a navel.
There goes the last link with my mother!!!
I suppose I could replace it with a tattoo of some kind: smiley face, golf ball, Green Barrow logo or the word mum in a circle.
Nah! I think I'm stuck with a broad empty space.
Which is a bit symbolic of another empty space that we share. And I'm so glad I share it with five great kids who have all got a bit of their mother in them.
Love you

Reply
Celia
4/18/2019 05:40:50 pm

Not as much as I love you! Writing as therapy, a gift I am sure I inherited from my favourite father xx

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Graham
4/18/2019 05:16:51 pm

A reading of your reflection Celia inspired my memory of a phenomenal woman who gave of herself so generously to others. Just as your Mother was an integral part of your life Celia, her support of myself as a young Principal (and now twenty six years later one that is about to retire) inspired me to overcome many of the challenges I encountered. Generous spirits are never forgotten.

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:39:33 pm

Thank you Mr S. I am so overwhelmed by the stories like yours of how welcoming and supportive my mum was to so many. I hope you enjoy your retirement, I hear Gypsy Point is a nice place to visit?

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Sarah Bell
4/18/2019 05:18:40 pm

celia cat, thank you for sharing these beautiful words. i never got to meet your mum but i know she must have been a phenomenal woman to have raised one like you. much love to you on your journey 💕 x

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Mary Waterman
4/18/2019 05:19:51 pm

Hi Celia - I always felt that your Mum was one of those caring and unjudgemental people. I used to regularly bump into her at Mentone shops and we would have a quick chat about day to day stuff. Even though I didn't know her well her gentle, unpretentious, caring nature showed in her mannerisms and just the way she greeted me.
Grief is a strange thing. Is makes us feel sad but then it also cuts out all the crappy things we used worry about too. The pain is unbearable at times but then that's because we loved that person so much. So we can't have the pain without the love too. Take care Celia xxx

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:38:26 pm

Hi Mary,

Thank you so much for your lovely words. Mum always used to love to tell me when she ran into a Stella mum, give that lovely daughter a hug for me :)

I totally relate to the idea of grief cutting out the crappy things we used to worry about. You definitely take stock, hey? I so don't care about stuff that used to worry me even 6 months ago. I also find that small things such as a sunset, or a laugh heard down the street, or some yummy chocolate have become so much more amplifyingly beautiful too.

Hope you are well xxx

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Maryan
4/18/2019 05:20:54 pm

Oh Celia, this is so beautiful and so you. You have done Jude proud and will continue to I am sure. Just keep loving your wonderful family and never forgetting the love your Mum had for you and all of us. She was special. Love Mimi xxxx

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:37:24 pm

Thank you my beautiful, special Auntie Mimi xxx I love you lots.

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Jenny McFadden
4/18/2019 05:22:23 pm

Hey Celia, such a touching and truly real piece of memory transformed by writing into something so many others can identify with and share. Keep up the writing. It captures and crystallises moments held in your mind that you'll always be able to revisit, and it also speaks to the shared humanity of all of us, not just to those who had the privilege of knowing and loving the wonderful person who was Jude, but to everyone who has ever lost someone unspeakably precious. You can't physically photograph your beautiful Mum any more in the sunlight, but you can do it by recording all the sunlit memories. Much love Celie,
Jenny McFadden

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Jenny
4/18/2019 05:24:06 pm

Hey Celie, don't want to hog the blog, but just wanted to add some words that I've always found beautiful and metaphorically comforting (by Mary Elizabeth Frye.)

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:35:08 pm

Thank you beautiful Aunt Jenny, Your words are too kind. You can hog the blog as much as you like. I absolutely love the poem as I love you! xx Mum is definitely alive in the beautiful things in this world xxx

Patrick McFadden
4/18/2019 05:25:39 pm

Hi Celia. I am one of your Mum's many cousins. I've been living down in Melbourne (Elwood) for 14 years but was away when your Mum passed away and sadly missed her funeral. Fortunately, and amazingly, Dad (Brian, your grandfather's youngest brother) made the trip by train to be there for her farewell. I last saw your mum and dad in Port Douglas at David and Mary's place in October 2014. It was great to see her. I wish we had made the effort to catch up again back in Melbourne but typically we all just get too busy with life and neither of us made the effort to contact each other after then. I'm comforted to know she lived a happy life and produced some great kids that will carry on her legacy. Your grand parents, Jack and Pat, are both my god parents.Great people and role models to follow. It was an amazing feeling to read what you wrote when I think of them and their lives before you were ever born. They would be all very proud. All the best to you and your family.

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:33:58 pm

Hi Patrick,

Thank you so much for reading and getting in touch. I am simultaneously happy and sad at all the replies I have received, especially from family. I am sad because I want to tell mum all about them! But happy that she is in the hearts of so many.

I spoke with your Dad and the other Parramatta rellies at the wake, so amazed at his efforts to jump on the train to make the journey down.

Your words were so lovely, all the best to you. I may even bump into one day, I see on the family tree contact list we are practically neighbours :)

Celia

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Geoff Thomas
4/18/2019 05:26:53 pm

Hi Celia, My mum Kitty Thomas ( Deeth ) and I saw your mum several times in the late 80's and would meet up and have lunch in Toorak. Mum hadn't been to Melbourne for 40 - 50 years and it was a highlight to catch up with your mum and my mum would catch up with all the family gossip. Mum's 89 now and couldn't make the funeral, however David McFadden has kept mum up to date and provided the video for us. Jude had that McFadden sense of humour and was always a lovely and warm person. That was a beautiful tribute to Jude, take care of yourself and each other. I will pass this onto mum. Kind Regards Geoff Thomas ( Tamworth )

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Celia
4/18/2019 05:32:29 pm

Hi Geoff, thank you so much for the lovely message! David is so good at sharing the family news. Mum always spoke so fondly of Kitty, it sounds like they had some memorable moments. Would love to travel back in time to witness these lunches!! I hope your mum is well. And that you are too!
Celia xx

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Geoff Thomas
7/4/2020 07:44:53 pm

Hi Celia, This page came up while I was searching for an image of Mum!! My Mum Kitty Thomas passed away from bowel cancer on the 18/6/18 in Tamworth. David came and visited Mum a few weeks before her death. We miss Mum very much. I hope you are keeping well. Kind Regards Geoff Thomas




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