The Moral Compass

My grandmother passed away on the Sunday just gone. My mums mum.

When my mum was 17, she left home with the desire to create an amazing life for herself. She was never ungrateful of her own family, but she wanted to be in control of her own destiny and knew that to achieve that, she needed to leave home and plant her own roots elsewhere.

When she met my dad, she immediately found her family.

We never had a whole lot to do with mums side of the family. We would see them most Christmas holidays maybe on our way further north or they would come down to sydney for a few days here and there. At least that’s what I remember.

But for the most part, we didn’t spend much time with them.

It wasn’t until my mum got sick with cancer when I was 14 that I noticed that mums side of the family weren’t around much during her treatment and sickness.

Even in her final months and weeks of life before she passed away, I don’t really have any memory of them being by mums bedside.

Mums family lived in Newcastle. About 2.5 to 3 hours north of where we lived. A decent drive but one worth making to spend some final moments with your dying daughter. Well that’s what I’d think anyway.

I held resentment towards my nan and didn’t speak to her for 10 years after mum died. On Mother’s Day in 2020 I felt I needed to let go of this resentment for my own peace of mind so I called her. I don’t think she ever knew of how I felt. I’m not sure what she thought to be honest. She’d never tried to call or reach out to me in that time either.

At that time my son was 2 years old and both of his great grandmothers were still alive, so I took my son and my grandmother on my dad’s side to Newcastle.

I wanted her to meet her great grandson. I felt it was a way for him to connect with my mum in some strange way. He wouldn’t remember it but it makes me feel better knowing I made the effort. I made that effort for my mum.

Now for the morality.

My mums half sister, my aunt, informed me that Nan had passed away on the 26th of January 2025.

As I write this the date is the 30th.

The funeral is on the 3rd of February.

I had no idea she was sick, suffering or dying. It makes sense that I didn’t know because as I’ve grown up I’ve realised the only way my brothers and I had a relationship with mums side of the family was through the effort my mum made to include them in our lives. Not through effort of theirs.

Am I wrong for not wanting to attend the funeral? Or am I no better than my nan for not making an effort to be by my mums side as she deteriorated and the cancer took hold of every piece of her.

The person I feel I am in my core, the good and decent human says the right thing to do is to go and pay my respects.

But something in me says don’t. That I don’t want to.

It’s not that I have an opinion on what type of person she was. I didn’t spend enough time in my adult life to form that sort of opinion. But in key moments I feel I saw what I needed to.

On the other side of this moral coin, is my question as to how I would feel if it was my child on their deathbed. I feel absolutely confident that I’d be there with them despite how painful it would be to see. But maybe it was too painful for her.

Will I be able to sleep at night if I don’t go? Will not going impact my moral compass and my views on ‘the right thing to do’ in future?

I don’t know.

That’s the thing with a moral compass, it isn’t tangible. There is no definitive answer or right and wrong. Only an inner critic who makes the call on how you choose to move forward.

The right thing to do and what you want to do are often misaligned. You just have to be prepared to own and live with your decision.