We carried mum in. This is something we wanted to do for her. It was like she walked in front of hundreds of people that had walked in her life. It was powerful. More then I could have ever imagine it to be. I had my 7 month old baby girl sitting in the front row ready to hold me. I didn't look at anyone. I just walked. I couldn't look. I had tears rolling down each cheek. I felt their tears. I could hear their cries. Hundreds of cries. They were all there for her. My mum. I knew she was special. Like no other person you would ever meet in your life. And so did they.
That is what I did. I sucked in the tiny amount of air I could. I stood before my mum's friends and I spoke about her. My mum in words. Mumso, Joan, Joanie, Clayton. There are many names mum went by. It wouldn't matter what you called her, she was always there for you. She did it her way.
That was mum; a lady who was completely there for you, but in her way. She was not affectionate. She told you she loved you. She gave you cuddles. She would even wipe your tears. But she did it differently; her way.
Mum did a lot in her short life. If anything would stand out for me it would be here sheer determination to make everything perfect for the people around her. The way she let me live my life. For me to learn from my own mistakes, but to always be there quietly in the background ready to catch me if I fell. Or with that hand that would be pushing me to my success.
Mum never did anything she didn't want to do. She still smeared vegemite all over her face and sung that she was a happy little vegemite for charity. She hated vegemite.
Today I remember mum. I will laugh. I will cry. I will hold her tight all day. I will breathe that tiny amount of air. I will remember and never forget. My mum, my mumso.