The Authentic Eclectic

Mum, Could You Love Me Now That I’m Dying?

My aunt’s final words still haunt me

Photo by Douglas Lopez on Unsplash. Licence.

My aunt passed away three years ago. She didn’t have children, but her hospital bed was surrounded by siblings, nieces and nephews. My aunt was pretty out of it, I guess from the morphine. She lay in her bed, shuffling around a little, but hardly talking. And then I heard her whisper, “Mum, could you love me now that I’m dying?”

I can’t imagine being on my deathbed and doubting my mother’s love. This one was of the last things my aunt said, and her words still haunt me. But I’m also unsure that I want to dissect the relationship between my aunt and my grandma.

My grandma had seven children, 16 grandchildren, three siblings, various in-laws and many friends. I can’t pinpoint the one-on-one relationships she had with each of these people; there were so many. I just remember her collective love for everyone — an open-armed woman who was always there with a cup of tea and a slice of sponge cake. I’m sure my older relatives will have more nuanced memories, but that’s what I recall.

In 1966, my 13-year-old aunt took my 11-year-old dad to a Rolling Stones concert at the Palais Theatre in Melbourne. They had general admission tickets but snuck up front to the VIP section. As my…