Today my mum would have been 66. She died suddenly 10 and a half years ago. I miss her so much. It is so unfair.
She brought my 3 siblings and me up amazingly well. We were 4 children bound by her undying love and when she died we lost our centre that we all gravitated towards. I miss having a place to call ‘home’ (ours was called Halston); the place that you retreat to when you feel vulnerable; the place you can go and know you will get a warm, cosy feeling; the place that you can go to tell your exciting news and know that there will be someone who is as excited as you and so proud. No matter how old.
I remember the day that I lost that place, vividly. It was the start of the school term, I was living and working in London as a teacher. My mum had been poorly since the end of the summer holiday, so I decided to get the train back home on the Friday after school. When I arrived at the front door of Halston, I wasn’t greeted by my mum. My dad opened the door. My mum wasn’t in the kitchen, cooking some yummy food, or sat waiting with an open bottle of wine. She was lying on the sofa, in pain. Somehow, at that moment I knew things had changed for good.
We spent so many meal times sat around the table in our beautiful Halston kitchen, crying with laughter. My mum was amazing at that- laughing so hard she would cry. It was infectious and more often than not we’d all be sat around the table, doubled over with tears down our faces. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.
If she was still alive she would spend her free time with her 6 (soon to be 7!) beautiful grandchildren. She would give me advice on what the hell I could do or have done in so many situations. But she isn’t here, so we have to remember the good times, shed the occasional tear, and plough on.
As obvious it may seem to everyone, life does go on, which I am very grateful for. Sometimes, though, I just wish it would stop, just for a moment. Just to let that bit of self-indulgent, grief come out, without people thinking I have gone mad.
I recently read that talking to your mother, hearing her voice, is as good as a hug. So go and talk and hug your amazing mums. And when I pick Pearl up from school tonight I am going to talk her ear off and hug her so hard. And try to impart some of my beautiful mum’s love and wisdom on to her.
(LMX is how my mum used to sign her text messages off: Love Mum X)