To Mum, with love

To my Mum, today, on what would have been your 71st birthday.

71. I just can’t imagine you being 71. But how I wish I could see what you would be like. No doubt you’d still be wearing the latest trends and applying your makeup and doing your hair each day. Always leaving the house looking your very best. This is the 9th birthday that I haven’t been able to share with you. And geez I wish I could say it gets easier. But it doesn’t. In fact, this year seems all that much worse.

It feels like a lifetime has been lived since you left us. You didn’t get to see what my married life would be like. Every day I wish you were here to talk to about that. I look back now at your marriage and can only guess what you were really feeling and thinking. Were you frustrated by Dad (love you Dad, but really)? How did you work through your differences? What were your favourite parts of marriage? There are so many things I want to ask.

I have a 9 year old, a soon to be 7 year old and a 2 year old with a huge personality now. And you haven’t been here for any of my motherhood journey. The very beginning, yes. But those few short months were spent visiting you in hospital, in too much shock to really make the most of it. The hardest part of this is witnessing what my children are missing out on. The grandmothers love that only you could give them. I know you would be here at the drop of a hat if I asked you. How I wish I had that help and support. I am going it alone. When my kids are sick I don’t know who to call. When my husband says we should get away for one night, I don’t have anyone to have them. Nobody wants to look after 3 kids. But you would have. You would have been here. I witness so many family dynamics through my work and my friends. And the one thing that eats at me is that unconditional love felt by extended family. That connection that my kids are missing. That grandparent who is here through thick and thin, who sees no wrong in anything they do and who lavishes them with love, attention and even spoils them with gifts. That was supposed to be your job. You would have been in your element in that role. You would have been here every day if I needed you. And boy do I need you. I needed you 9 nine years ago and I need you now.

Losing you has changed me. My mental health has struggled. Maybe it would have anyway, but I don’t think so. I think with you here by my side, at least for a few years of raising my kids, things would be different. Having a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen at any time. Advice, support and mostly love, I think I would be coping better. Grief is so much bigger than I ever imagined. It is missing the person you were, but also the person that you would have become. Grief continues, and changes and even grows as the years pass by.

I sound a little angry. I guess I am. I am angry that we miss out on you. I am angry that I have done motherhood without a mother. But I am grateful for you too. You were strong, you were resilient, you were loving and despite so many challenges thrown your way you always chose to be happy. I am trying Mum. I really am. I am trying to choose happy.

I feel like there is so much more I could write, but even this is so raw. Tears are streaming down my face as I type. So I will leave it here.

Happy birthday Mum. Until we meet again. x

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