Although I know she won’t call, I keep wishing that phone will ring. Each time I use Skype, it reminds me that the £29 credit on the account was to enable me to phone her every day when she took ill.
The moment I got the news is actually Tuesday morning my time. I was on a plane to England to be by her side the day she died.
Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her . Life is unfair, life is cruel. Life is short. Life is brutal, and takes no prisoners.
I must remember the good times.
I remember how proud she was of me on my wedding day, but she gave me orders NOT to wear my new glasses (recently prescribed), because I didn’t look like me!
She was super proud on my second graduation – breaking new ground in the history of our family.
No matter what life threw at me to knock me down, she always had the right words to say, she knew what I was thinking without me having to talk, she knew how to comfort me when I needed it.
It’s those times I miss most. When I need a few words, from my mum to tell me it will be ok, cheer me up, give me a hug, she’s not there any more.
Grief doesn’t get any easier, the hole doesn’t get any smaller. Time simply softens the jagged pain a little and equips you with the tools to cope with the agony, when it arises. And it arises at the most unexpected and unpredictable of times like an axe to the head.
Mum, I miss you, and I always will. More than you will ever know.