Shirley
What a fabulous mother i had.
The real tragedy for me about today is not her death but all the opportunities we are now missing and the plans that now lie in a huge ruined heap. Roslyn and Mike had already begun organising that she move to the South Coast next year and it was Robert and my intention that then she Summered in Europe with us and returned to Africa during our Winter.
There was so much she still wanted to do, and so much that I wanted her to experience. And i know, even if she didn't, that she would have had such a lovely time. But don't think it was going to be easy or simple convincing mother. She had already told us she was not moving again and wouldn't leave the dogs for 6 months - but the cracks were there and I know it would only have been a matter of time.
So let me tell you about my mother.
Yes she was kind and generous! Yes she was gentle, yes she was loyal, she loved animals, loved people, loved life. She was alive and real People often told me that they envied me because of the mother I was dealt, and I did feel very lucky. And we had a very special relationship. I guess most son's probably adore their mother - but because she was never a lot older than me, an only child and was so completely involved in my life, we did have an extra special relationship.
But she was so much more.
Firstly she was terribly demanding! She was an only child so Mother never had to share the attention with anyone and she carried that on through her whole life. And Mother had lots of strategies in place to ensure she got the attention too. I once told her that she had raised emotional blackmail to an art form. But there was a whole arsenal of strategies that she could deploy at a moments notice.
And she had such high expectations of everyone. She knew how people should behave and how she should behave towards people. I was often told that my mother was a proper lady. She was classy. Civilised. And if you missed those high expectations you could expect, and should prepare, for the worst. Robert called it The Cobra. Her neck would flaghten and the head would come up and I knew that the victim stood no chance. I experienced many opportunities in the glare of that cobra.
And we used to have the most wonderful arguements. Whenever I came back to Joburg it generally took 2 days before the first argument. We both knew it. Our record was Switzerland which was 4 days till the arguement but that might just have been the effect of all the snow. Or Mother being distracted by the St Bernards. And then, when we'd said what we really felt and needed to get off our chests, we would have the most wonderful of times.
She drove me up the wall and was definitely a high maintainance Mother. But don't feel sorry for me - I gave as good as I got. I shall really miss our arguements and that feeling afterwards that all was fine in the world.
When i was at school I was always secretly very proud of my mother. Because she was quite young when I was born, I always had the mom who looked like my sister. The other mothers were old and some even had moms in their 30s She loved it when people asked her if I was her husband or sometimes "Is that your brother?" We used to joke about the fact that we would both go to the old age home together. Some of you will remember the story of when she wolf whistled at a guy in s BMW and then told me I had to make sure he knew I was her son and not her husband. I told her that I was sure that their was no doubt in that man's mind that I was her son. She looked at me and said, "Well you are bald!". I said "And you've got wrinkles!". She then told me that they were laughter lines. I said, "Mother! Nothing was ever THAT funny!"
Mother and I talked either on my way to work or on my way home most days. I have a hands free kit in my car and it takes me an hour through London's traffic, so I got to hear about every minute of mother's daily activities, sometimes twice. And there were lots of very special people in mother's life. To you I would like to say thank you for loving my mother and I know she would want me to say how much she valued your friendship and loved you right back. I know that she will look after you now more than before.
The only consolation I can take from my mother's sudden death at such a young age is that my mother was glamorous and fabulous to the end. No one saw a grey hair. Well except for Irene the hairdresser. She never become frail and weak and helpless. And I know she would have preferred it that way. Of course I wanted her to live forever...
So now my mother lives on in my memory. I will always remember my mother in fine health, as strong and independent, as alive and excited, skyping me during a rugby match and demanding to know what I could see on Sky TV whilst she watched Supersport. Crying after she came back from the nursery school in a township. Nervous because she had to chair a child welfare meeting. So enthusiastic because someone had knitted jerseys for those children for this winter. Planning her next trip overseas.
My biggest regret is that I lived so far away but funnily enough I spoke to her far more than when I lived up the road in Mudrand. And she went from how do I switch this latop on to video conferencing and skyping me within 3 weeks. And every December she would spend 6 weeks with us in London. And I cannot begin to tell you how proud I was to be able to show my mother, Milan, Venice, Rome, Pompeii, the Red Sea, the pyramids and to have a proper white Christmas in Switzerland. She wanted to see the Aztecs civilization next. That's what happens when you spend your life watching the History Chanel.
We were once talking about my living in London and she said to me, "Never forget that there is a very strong umbilical cord between us, Wayne. And just because you live so far away now has just meant that it has stretched to London. But it will never snap." What we didn't know then was that it was so strong that it would one day stretch to heaven.
In the days when TV was just starting up in this country we used to watch Little House on the Prarie. It was on every Sunday. And each time mother would shout Fetch the tissue box and the three of us would sit and howl through some tragic episode. Well I was too butch to cry but they did. And there was one episode where the mother was dying from some fatal disease and had to stand up in front of the church and beg the congregation to take her children. You can imagine how many tissues they went through that night. But the mother said to her children, "Remember me not with tears but with smiles. " And that is how I shall remember my mother.
For a long time in our lives there were only 3 of us in our family, the 3 musketeers, and it was during this time that my sister and I changed from being spoilt, shallow, rich, frivellous children to the successful people we are today. And that was my mother's finest hour.
I have chosen Ave Maria to end this service and specifically a version sung by The Cranberries and then Pavarotti. At that concert the audience gave them a standing ovation. And when we play the song and you hear the applause, I want you to imagine that it is me giving my mother a standing ovation.