My darling Granny Ford died on the Thursday morning at 1.30pm. Did she know I wouldn't be able to come again until the Monday? We did tell her, but whether she could hear us or have any control on when she would leave this life is only speculation.
Meg and I were due to attend the Turner Syndrome Annual Conference, at Chorley that day. We drove down and got organised. Well, as organised as you can get with a death and a daughter in a wheelchair.
My beautiful friend Arlene, made a toast with pink fizz to Granny Ford. She would have loved that, and I will be forever grateful for the acknowledgement given to her that evening.
Thursday is a day to catch up with Committee Members, as when the Conference starts, it is all hands on deck, with very little time for any conversation what so ever. Meg was 'beyond' shattered from the drive and so went off to bed quite early.I stayed up for an hour later, and then retired myself, not feeling quite as excitable as I should have been.
Friday was 'full on' with dance rehearsals and greeting people arriving. Saturday was busy with final rehearsals and nipping to check on Meg who could not stand upright without face-planting walls. She looked like death, but was full of determination to make it to the evening Showcase, which managed to pass without any hysterics…. Awards were given to two of our beautiful girls who had passed away this year, Holly (aged only 21) and Angela. Such a heart wrenching speech was made about both girls it reminded me of their fragility and how easy it is to brush aside the seriousness of the condition. The minutes standing ovation that was given in their honour was a fitting tribute to their lives. With each passing second, the hairs on my arms stood more and more erect. A crescendo of emotion rising into my throat, I managed to suppress a complete meltdown that could have easily manifested itself into hysteria. Self control is a funny thing, and something that actually, I don't have too much of an issue with but, managing to distance myself from a years grief and worry was something else.... Swallowing a lump the size of the Universe, I focused on the wonderful show "The Addams Family A.K.A. The Turner Family" - it went so quickly, that I didn't have time to go back and dwell on sadder moments.
How very lucky am I to be fortunate enough to be included in such an amazing association. Watching the girls dancing and singing lifted my heart out of the depths of despair into blue skies and rainbows.
I have wanted to share this script with you for some time, but it has only been appropriate to do so now.
It's a scene from Mr Magoriums Wonder Emporium.
Friday was 'full on' with dance rehearsals and greeting people arriving. Saturday was busy with final rehearsals and nipping to check on Meg who could not stand upright without face-planting walls. She looked like death, but was full of determination to make it to the evening Showcase, which managed to pass without any hysterics…. Awards were given to two of our beautiful girls who had passed away this year, Holly (aged only 21) and Angela. Such a heart wrenching speech was made about both girls it reminded me of their fragility and how easy it is to brush aside the seriousness of the condition. The minutes standing ovation that was given in their honour was a fitting tribute to their lives. With each passing second, the hairs on my arms stood more and more erect. A crescendo of emotion rising into my throat, I managed to suppress a complete meltdown that could have easily manifested itself into hysteria. Self control is a funny thing, and something that actually, I don't have too much of an issue with but, managing to distance myself from a years grief and worry was something else.... Swallowing a lump the size of the Universe, I focused on the wonderful show "The Addams Family A.K.A. The Turner Family" - it went so quickly, that I didn't have time to go back and dwell on sadder moments.
How very lucky am I to be fortunate enough to be included in such an amazing association. Watching the girls dancing and singing lifted my heart out of the depths of despair into blue skies and rainbows.
I have wanted to share this script with you for some time, but it has only been appropriate to do so now.
It's a scene from Mr Magoriums Wonder Emporium.
Mr. Magorium: [to Molly, about dying] When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
[pause, walks over to Molly]
Mr. Magorium: I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."
Molly Mahoney: [starting to sob] I love you.
Mr. Magorium: I love you, too.
[picks Molly up, sighs heavily]
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