Writing a Eulogy for someone like Mum is impossible. Capturing their entire life in a short piece of prose just is not possilbe. So we didn't. We wrote about mum, her being, her spirit. We hope over time, this site may capture everyones little thoughts of mum, but for now, here are ours: Dorian Elizabeth Eichhorn Where do you start, with Mum, with Dorian? None of us have ever written a eulogy before, so where do you start with a blank page staring up at you. Where do you start with someone who experienced life with so much energy? Where do you start with someone who has shared love and warmth like an endless summers day? Where do you start with someone who has touched so many, that each of them, of you, could write a novel of your memories? Where do you start? For us, there is only one place to start, one word, Mum. We feel honoured to call her that. She was exceptional. She was our Mother, our guide, our teacher, our entertainer, our protector, our best friend and giver of love. She healed our hurts, gave us faith in ourselves when we were down, stood proud when we achieved and embraced just because she could. She made us better people. She showed us by example the true meaning of unconditional love, of kindness, of perseverance, of patience and all the time, she brought sunshine into every day. Most of you will know her for the same. Mum’s generosity of spirit covered everyone in that same warming sunshine. Everyone was touched by it. Mum lived for people; she enjoyed the conversations, the sharing of experiences, the laughter and the openness. The instant people met her, they felt they had known her for years; she was herself, and she wanted to see people just being themselves. She would always be concerned for others welfare and comfort above her own. Even in her last week, when the first overnight care nurse arrived at 10pm, Mum was more concerned about whether the nurse had had dinner, then her own discomfort. Second to her love of people must be gardening, her passion that became her business for the past 20 years. She loved the earth; she loved creating such glorious and radiant gardens for her clients. She was a garden alchemist, turning overgrown forgotten gardens into works of art. Her own garden was always as beautiful, often witnessing long hours of her expert touch, even though she had been gardening all day. Hunting her out in the dark with a torch was common. But she was not just a ‘pretty borders’ type of gardener, she constantly tackled the heavy work, the landscaping, the shifting of lorry loads of earth and manure, even the felling of trees. She worked hard. Her body hid immense strength, whilst her gentle personality hid a deep inner will. Both of which have been so apparent during her battle the past three years. Mum was beautiful, if the world was to see her, then she would always ensure she was prepared, immaculate. But it wasn’t vanity; she could see the inner beauty of everyone and somehow always felt she owed the world to look her best in reflection. Yet for those of you who worked with her in the gardens, her natural beauty shone through. After 6, 7, 8 hours of solid gardening (Mum rarely took long breaks), elbow high in earth, winter or summer, mum would have the natural radiance and beauty that seems to come so expensive to Hollywood. It was this natural beauty that radiated out from her personality. She never accepted how beautiful she was and yet throughout months of pain and chemotherapy she looked as glamorous as ever; fighting her illness with immense courage and dignity. Mum was a passionate person, she was someone who was able to express their emotions freely, with that came sensitivity, a deep empathy. Occasionally she was a little too expressive and sensitive. Once Mum and Nathalie went to the little cinema in Oxted to watch Titanic. After the film had finished they spent a good 10 minutes sat in their seats sobbing, trying to console each other that it was only a film and that Leonardo hadn’t actually died. Supporting each other out of the cinema and now looking like a pair of Alice Cooper fans Mum and Nathalie walked to the car. It was only then that Mum remembered the events of the film were real, the Titanic did sink and a real life Leonardo had probably died all those years ago. Just like a burst water main, Mum was off again, sobbing profusely whilst trying to get the car key in the lock. All the while repeating the words “It’s all so sad”. That was Mum, she felt for anyone. Mum was creative, she had imagination and a vision for seeing through the weeds, sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically, as to what something could be, what potential lay beneath. She would make many things, knitting, bakery, poems and of course gardens. A pile of shells would become little owl characters (50p a piece at the local fete). A collection of thistles became a family of hedgehog pin cushions, a pile of earth became a flourishing flower bed. A simple sponge became an extravagant, impossible birthday cake for one of us. She even created cakes for various 40th and 50th birthdays, decorated with her skilful hands. The nature of these decorations would raise eye brows, wry smiles or astonished laughter from whoever received them. Mum wasn’t infallible, no one is. Her insistence on perfection, whilst always seeking the acceptance of those around, allowed us children to wind her up as only children can. It would normally start with mum asking if we liked her outfit. We of course would say yes, she always looked good, but then we would say how interesting the colour was, carefully instilling the tiniest doubt. That would be enough, and before we could add any more, off she would disappear to ransack her wardrobe again. This we generally found worked for any colour. The smile when she would finally realise the game we’d played, would fill us with pure love. Be content; be consoled, that Mum’s life was filled with happiness. All of it came from people here, in this Church today. She treasured the close bond of her sisters, Paula and Susan. She cherished the voyage of discovery, of experiences shared with her former husband, our father Rob. The nurturing and care of bringing us two into and then up through this life. The pride of a Nana, watching her son do the same again with his boys. She lived off the joy and companionship of her friends and colleagues. And then the realisation of absoluteness, of completeness with her second love, her fiancé Steve. For all of that, for all of you, she did say ‘Thank you’. …. Where do you finish? You Don’t. Everyone will have their own little eulogies, tributes, memories they will have to themselves. Eulogies never really finish. Mums sunshine touched everyone, gave everyone warmth. Suns, as Stars, shine on, we feel them and we see them, long after the star has gone. Her sunshine, the brightness of who she was, still reaches and touches us. Mum, we’ll always love you, you are our sunshine. ……… Alex and Nathalie Eichhorn.