By Liberty Moore, whose mum died when Liberty was 24
1. A terminal Illness with no strict timeline like MND (motor neurone disease) is an odd thing
After Mum's diagnosis, people rallied round and it was really intense. However, her illness lasted five years and as time went on and things got worse, it was almost like people forgot about her. Perhaps they were scared to visit as she got more sick, perhaps they didn't know what to say, perhaps they thought they had more time. But the isolation this caused her was devastating and so hard to watch, I think because unlike the illness itself, it was totally preventable.
2. It's so easy to take your frustrations out on the wrong person
Being there day to day and watching the person who raised you, slowly lose their ability to do things for themselves is soul destroying. And then having to learn ‘on the job’ to do these things for them is testing and frustrating. There were so many occasions where I wrongly vented this frustration at my mum. I still hold so much guilt for times I snapped at her. But being a carer is the toughest job in the world and I think (I hope) she understood that.
3. Anticipatory grief is a thing, and it sucks
I remember the day my mum was given her MND diagnosis - Corticobulbar Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis to be precise. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I feel like I definitely began my grieving process there and then. It then continued for the next five years. As she slowly lost parts of herself day by day, I grieved them. And it is continuing now on another level since her death.
4. You may start to wonder if little things are coincidence or some sort of sign
I've never been a huge believer of any sort of spiritual world. But so many well timed coincidences have happened since my mum passed that have made me question my beliefs. The most simple ones have been robins or butterflies turning up when I seem to need a reminder of her the most. Even though I'm still not quite sure what I believe and feel quite silly even thinking it, it's definitely a comfort for me to imagine it could be her.
5. Music heals everything
Two days after my mum passed, I had tickets booked to see Two Door Cinema Club. I almost cancelled but something told me to go... And WOW, it was literally the most intensely cathartic thing I've ever experienced. I laughed and I cried and I danced and I drank and I just felt the weirdest sense of freedom for the first time in a long time. It felt like that room was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment in time and all the people in it (even though they had no idea) were right with me!
About Liberty Moore
”My name's Liberty. On 10/10/2019 at exactly 10:00am, I lost my best friend and my only remaining parent. My mum was diagnosed with MND (motor neurone disease) in 2014 and fought a long and courageous five year battle with the disease, always maintaining her sharp wit and wicked sense of humour. My brother and I carried out the majority of her care whilst still working normal jobs and we worked super hard to maintain her wish of staying at home until the end. The disease, the caregiving and her death were all the hardest things I think (and hope) I'll ever experience in my life. We lost my dad suddenly and unexpectedly when I was eight years old so losing my second parent at age 24 was a huge blow.
I'm currently a barista in an amazing independent cafe and I still don't really know what I want to be when I grow up. Now that my caring responsibilities are over, I plan to take some time for myself and save to travel and see some of the world.
Friends, music and food have been the three things that have gotten me through this awful period of my life. And the need to make both of my parents proud is I think going to be the thing that gets me through the rest of it.”
Liberty Moore, 24, Bideford in North Devon
