“I remember” – the speech I did not give

Stain AngelOn the 23rd of February 2016, my mother passed away. Exactly one month ago. Just in case the opportunity would have arisen at her funeral for a little speech (I held a speech at my grandmother’s funeral), I sat down and jotted down a few words in honour of my mother. Today, I want to recopy them and finally share them with the world. 

I want to share some memories of Nicola, who accompanied me for the first 27 years 6 months and 3 days of my life. I’ll start from the beginning…

Dear Nicola,

I remember how you and Moritz were having a mud fight, that I was not very fond of… this must be one of my earliest memories

I remember sitting inside of the basket that you had on the back of your bike.

To stay with biking, a passion you seemed to have, I remember how you ran after me while you taught me how to ride my own bike (I was a little short of 3 years old).

I remember your marriage, sorry, I was a bit of a pest.

I remember how you would meet me on the way home from school, when I was playing instead of walking home. Sorry for all those unnecessary worries.

I remember you reading many books to me, Michel aus LönnebergerPippi LangstrumpfDie Brüder Löwenherz, vielleicht bist du ja jetzt auch in einer schönen Welt wie die Brüder. Ja, es gab viel Astrid Lindgren.

I remember playing frisbee on the Newtownsquare SAP campus and eating Oreos. Spülmaschinenmonster?

I remember how you drove me here and there, while we were living in the US, and how very much you disliked driving.

I remember visiting Vermont, searching fro Karl Zuckmeyer’s House, eating Pancakes with the most delicious Maple Sirup, learning how to ski.

I remember how you helped me with the penguin

I remember how you helped my understand Pythagoras, I was proud to have a mom who could master maths so easily, who has that?

I remember holidays on the beach in Brittany.

I remember those vitalising massages you gave me, while I was studying for my bac.

Do you remember how you read books to me when I was 18? The story of the two old ladies…

I remember you visiting me in Newcastle, I was a bit sick, tacking antibiotics. My flatmates took my cooking for “mom’s great cooking”…

I remember you being an amazing godmother for A.

I remember how happy you were with little one. How much she loves you. You two made the most out of the 2 years and 2 weeks and 2 days you had.

I remember how she squealed, when she saw you after a bit of time.

How FaceTime became a babysitter, when you were being treated in Heidelberg.

I remember how we came to Austria last Summer for a beautiful with you. What energy you had!

I remember your last Birthday, Thanksgiving, your last Christmas! How important it was for you that this Christmas was Perfect! It was.

I remember how last May you found out that you had cancer, I am glad that I told you to see the doctor, I am sad that it was too late.

I remember how happy you were that you would receive the immune therapy.

I recall how devastating it was when the treatments were stopped in January.

I remember talking with you. You told me that I have talent for writing, as you sometimes read my blog.

I remember how you started to fade, your questions started to be strange.

I remember telling you that I love you.

How you replied with a smile.

I remember how you said goodbye for the last time, I knew it was your last goodbye.

I remember how I was hoping for a miracle. I believed in this until you drew your last breath. I remember how you died in our arms.

Nicola, I remember you!

I will always remember you!

Nicola, I love you and I will always do so!

My mother was an artist, something she only fully embraced in the few months leading up to her death. Two weeks before she passed away she recorded a video, with a message for everyone. On her website, you will be greeted by this video, nicolawerner.paris. You can turn on/off the english subtitles by selecting the CC button.

© Solveig Werner 2016. All rights reserved.

24 thoughts on ““I remember” – the speech I did not give

  1. This is beautiful, Solvieg. I’m sorry you didn’t get to give your speech then but sui glad you’ve shared it with ifs.


    1. Thank you Corina, I could not find the time to give it. But as I had written it on paper the day before her funeral, I thought that I should let the speech go out into the world.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. So beautifully worded, Solveig. As Trent already stated – this is a great and touching memorial to your mother. Thank you for sharing it with us.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thanks for sharing this wonderful tribute to your mother with us.
    I lost my Dad to cancer in 2012. I could never have given a speech at his funeral, I would have simply fallen apart without finishing.
    The only advice I can offer is that it gets easier day by day. The pain diminishes with time and is gradually replaced by fond memories 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your words Norm. I cried, smiled and laughed a lot at my mom’s funeral. I don’t know how things would have been if I would have given the speech, but I guess that I would not have shared it here afterwards…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. And there, you’ve given the speech, it’s now free to do its good works, it will always be there, resonating for you and everyone who reads it. We all can emphasise or will empathise as we go through our lives. At both my mother and father’s funerals I insisted that my brother and I had our say. He was poignant I was irreverent as we both needed that for our next stages in our relationships with our parents. They might be gone in solid form but they sit on our shoulders, watching, nagging, advising, enjoying what we do and see and feel. It will be the same with your mother.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Geoff. Your words are so true, I have recently come to realise that my great grandfather has been there watching over me and leading me here and there, so I am sure my mom will be there too.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I am so happy for all of these memories and so many more that I have stored in my heart, and that I will not shy away from sharing. I sometimes still believe that a miracle will happen and that my mom will knock on our door.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh this is so moving Solveig, I’m so sad for your loss. It is lovely how you have put all your memories of your mum on your blog. It had me close to tears reading it. Mothers are so precious. Cancer is so cruel.


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