It’s a long time, in my mind. I think of all the things I’ve done in thirteen years. Run it all through my head.
There are things I have not done too. I have not dealt with losing you.
In a week it will be your birthday. You would have been 67 this year. I try to imagine what you would be like. Much the same, I think. Just greyer. Still my Mum.
Now, more than ever, I wish you were here. I feel a gaping chasm in my soul. I wish you were here with your warm embrace and your way of always getting it right.
The way only a Mother can.
I feel so very lost and burnt out with my life. I don’t quite know how to change this. I’m paralysed by fear and confusion.
I just want it to all go away. I can’t deal with any of it. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want advice.
I just want you. My Mum.
Our relationship wasn’t always easy, we fought, we were very similar you and I. But we worked well together. I was always happy and comfortable around you. We talked every day and did so much together. I never imagined you not being here for me. In my future I saw you with grandchildren and surrounded by your arts and crafts.
I look into the eyes of my niece and nephew and my own eyes well up. You would have loved these two munchkins and they you. I know you would have been a hands on grandparent, full of love and insight.
I never thought I would get over your death. I suppose I never have. I’ve learned to live with the hurt and the sorrow. I rarely talk about it now, people don’t understand. I don’t understand. It’s easier just to push on.
But right now, with your birthday looming and my life falling apart, I don’t think I can cope. I need your knowledge and your love. I need you. My Mum.