‘I know the music is a sign from Mum’
Linda Sheehan, 43, is an entrepreneur and lives in Felpham, West Sussex, with her fiancé David, 50, and their twins, Holly and Harry, three.
Watching my mum, Mary, twirl around, an enormous smile on her face, against the backdrop of the Mirabell Gardens in Salzburg, Austria, my heart was filled with happiness.
It was August 2015 and the sky a crisp blue, the flowers around her bursting with vivid colour. I knew this moment was a dream come true and one I would never forget, either. The gardens feature in one of Mum’s favourite films, The Sound Of Music, when Maria and the Von Trapp children sing Do-re-mi. We’d been invited to a family wedding in Austria and Mum was determined to visit the gardens and see them for herself. Swept up in that wonderfully happy moment, it was easy to briefly forget what had come before it.
A year earlier, Mum had been diagnosed with Stage 3C ovarian cancer. It was a huge shock and at such an advanced stage, the prognosis wasn’t good. But my gentle and vivacious mum had a steely core and was determined to keep going as long as she could. After two rounds of chemotherapy and major surgery, she and I travelled to Austria for that amazing holiday.
A SONG OF COMFORT
My mum had always loved The Sound Of Music. Like the leading character, Maria, she was Catholic and her faith was hugely important to her. Also, like Maria, she’d faced many challenges in her life, including losing her father to cancer when she was in her 20s, and being widowed at 42 when my own father, Barry, died. Of all the film’s wonderful songs, Edelweiss was her favourite. She loved its melody, like a soothing lullaby, and its sentiments of love and pride. A keen gardener, Mum could nurse any plant back to health, and she thought it wonderful that such an iconic song had been written about a little flower.
As a child, I would cuddle up with her to watch the film or I’d hear her singing Edelweiss in the kitchen as she baked for a family gathering. It came to be a song I associated with Mum, and with feeling loved.
We returned from Austria and over the next five years, Mum had countless rounds of chemotherapy. It was so hard for her but her positivity was exemplary; she was adamant she’d throw everything she had at the disease.
In 2016, I moved from my native Cork in Ireland, where Mum lived, to West Sussex, and in September 2018, my twins, Holly and Harry, were born. Mum and I would fly back and forth to see each other, and she’d Facetime the babies, singing Edelweiss to them, just as she had done to me when I was a baby.
When I set up my business, Twinspire Me, supporting other entrepreneurial mums of multiples, Mum was my biggest cheerleader. But by June 2020, Mum’s health had deteriorated dramatically and she was admitted to a hospice. I travelled with my family to Cork and we spent the last weeks of Mum’s life there. Because
of the pandemic, there were strict restrictions and, heartbreakingly, Mum spent many days completely alone knowing she was going to die.
ALWAYS THERE
Thankfully, I was with her at the end. My sister and I sat with her as she slipped into a coma, her six-year battle with cancer coming to an end. In the stillness of a June morning, as Mum took her final breath, Edelweiss played softly in the background. I wept, remembering her singing it around the house and dancing with joy like Maria in Salzburg. The lyrics ‘May you bloom and grow/bloom and grow forever,’ felt like a message from Mum. She’d died, but I knew part of her would remain with me.
After Mum’s funeral, I took home some of my childhood toys from her house for my twins. One of them was a Fisher-price record player with colourful ‘records’, which I’d treasured as a little girl. The first time the twins played with it, I heard the music to Edelweiss. It stopped me in my tracks and I burst into tears. I felt so sad, but also at peace because I believed it was a sign from Mum.
When I hear the song now, although my grief is still raw, it’s a great comfort; it’s Mum’s way of reaching out to me.
The edelweiss flower is a symbol of deep love, courage and devotion – my Mum had all those things and more.