My Mother's Passing


My Mum, Kay O'Neill, died last Friday morning (26th July) at 7.30am. After many weeks in which she was brutalized in hospitals, she thankfully managed to reach a place of great peace at the close.

This site has to do with writing and the esoteric, so I'll look at both of those aspects here. My father used to posit his time on banjo in a works' skiffle group as a creative influence on my life, but the truth is Mum made me as a writer. As is the way with creation I'm not exactly the writer she planned me to be, but she was proud enough (On Sacred Mountains was by her bed at home - I'm pleased it came out in time for her to appreciate it). She showed me all the escape routes into the wonders of reading, and always encouraged me to be as different as possible. I reckon my own tribute to her can be in the work that is to come.

In terms I learned from Hindu devotion, she was surely a divine mother. "I don't know what I was messing about at, going to see al those other divine mothers," I told her i hospital, and she wondered so too. "Maybe it was so I could come to see you more clearly," I suggested, and she agreed this was possible.

She radiated great light and energy. Her father came into the hospital room to visit her once she knew he was dying (he died when she was 15 and was a dear influence in her life - I know some readers find it hard to credit that the dead come through in such a way but they do and I feel no call to explain it here). He called her 'his precious girl' and was waiting with his arms out to guide her on the other side. Mum's response to this: "I don't know that he's got it right!" Feisty and independent to the end, I see I have more to learn from her example about trusting one's own way against all the odds, and resisting the powers of seduction however beautifully they are packaged.

Mum and her father have had their debate now - and between them I'm sure they've found a better way for the afterlife (Mum had no doubts of such a thing). It has been a blessing to have times sitting with her body these last few days - she looks incredibly peaceful, with a slight smile tucked into her cheeks. I feel her touch, and life goes on.

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