I hadn't seen my mum for two years before she died due to a very difficult issue with my brother. The last time I saw her, she was in a terrible un kept state, so much so that I contacted Adult Social Services to intervene.
This totally destroyed my relationship with him but I've never regretted my decision because he wasn't caring for her properly and I had no other option. I never saw her again.
He didn't tell me when she was admitted to hospital and it was my cousin who 'phoned to tell me she'd died. It was left to me to arrange her funeral which he didn't attend.
I'd never had any intention of seeing someone once they'd died and when I was asked if I wanted too, I felt very conflicted. I explained how terrible she looked the last time I saw her and although I'd never met her before, I trusted the funeral director to tell me if she really believed that seeing her once they'd looked after her, would be a good thing.
I remember hesitating at the door to the room, Mr. S. was with me, and she asked if I was alright. I said, and it sounds like an awful thing to say, that I was scared.
When I saw her she looked beautiful, clean and at peace. They'd even painted her nails with a pale varnish because they'd noticed how I look after my own, and guessed there was a time when she'd been the same. They were right.
I'm so pleased that I saw her and the memory of how she looked the last time I saw her when she was alive, has been replaced with how she looked that day because that was how my mum always used to look.