This poem was written by my very talented brother and read by him at Mum's funeral; Mum’s the word When knees are grazed and kids are bawling When mittens are needed with temperatures falling When thunder or nightmares strike at four in the morning Lulling us back to sleep, somehow hiding her yawning Mum’s the last word When music practice must be done And we’d rather do anything more fun Or when the Top of the Pops ban has finally gone Because Rene & Renata are the Christmas number one Mum’s was the car That took us to school, and so many activities Every night of the week, gym, piano or friend’s parties And when we were older she would drive us to town And pick us up after with just the hint of a frown Mum is the soft words When young hearts have been broken With a comforting hug when nothing need be spoken Mum is the harsh words when dad drives too fast ‘Mike!’, said with a force that could barely last Mum’s were the words On the endless lists she would compile Organising the family, the rabbit, always with a smile And also the congregation, for her work was never finished The only way she knew, putting others first, never diminished Mum has always been the word in the kitchen, her domain From which Sunday roasts and cricket teas Vegetarian meals and macaroni cheese Appeared like magic, always with apologies As ludicrous as ‘I’ve overdone the peas’ She never did, of course, but only one so humble Could make such a fuss over an apple crumble ‘Do you want some more?’ ‘Have you had enough, are you sure?’ These are mum’s words that we will always cherish And in times not long from now, repeat with relish As we remember the good times And were there any bad? Of course, we also thank Dad For the wonderful childhood we both had Jeremy and Suzanne were the words On Mum’s lips when she met anyone friend or foe, In church, in the street, and so often in Waitrose So proud of us, it seems that everyone knows About that night I went out and ended up comatose Mum’s were the surprisingly knowledgeable words on football, Gleaned from the paper, so keen was she to support us all. And when Sol went up to lift the FA Cup, she was there In spirit, for us, waving her hands like she just didn’t care These are the words that will recall mum in an instant… Packed lunches, cream scones, tea and pineapple cake Strictly Come Dancing, country walks round a lake Friday afternoons at the hairdressers and Sundays in church That Jonathan Ross, Mum didn’t like him much Her final act, one of typical unselfishness Was to leave us to be free, but only unless We do it how she intended, with a boldness To remember with thanks, and not in sadness So as she’s put us to bed a thousands times before In that stillness, in that calm, with the closing of the door Now we put Mum to bed and tuck her up with a kiss And I’ve hardly even touched upon how much we all will miss Mum’s the word