The hardest anniversary, my momma’s.

I can’t even believe that 24 whole months have passed since I last sat holding my mum’s hand, it’s still surreal. Even now, if something forces me to say that my mum is no longer here, my voice will still crack, the tears will instantly arrive in my eyes and there will be a pause before I’m able to fully deliver my response. Mostly because I miss her and I wish it wasn’t true, but also and sometimes more difficultly is the response you get from other people, the pity … the not knowing where to look, the awkwardness in which you both probably want the ground to open up and swallow you.

They say one of the hardest things is loosing a parent, no matter what age you are. I think age does play a big part though, at least in the process of accepting things. For example if Glenda has lived to the ripe old age of 87, seen all of her children grow up, met her grandchildren and even some great-grandchildren compared to Alex who passed away as a teenager – age does come into perspective. And I’ll always feel that my mum had absolute years ahead of her, and that her time was far too soon but equally I understand that her time stopped her pain indefinitely.

We all achieved so much in my mums life time, my brother and I were my mothers greatest achievements and she loved us like no other. I am forever grateful for the things we did and the memories we made, but a part of me will always feel great sadness for the things you have missed out on or will miss out on.

Three surgeries since I lost my mum, and I don’t know how I’ve gotten through any of them without my head on her lap, stroking my hair telling me “everything’s going to be okay”. That was my greatest comfort, no matter what happened in life she would always, always, always be therefore me and support me from start to finish. So having to find my feet without her, truly has been eye opening.

I regret nothing, but the older I get I realise there’s conversations I may not have had with my mum, because the time wasn’t right. We didn’t speak much about me having children, other than my mum knew it was my dream and that I hadn’t shut up about pregnancy since I was in my mid-teens, she knew I adored kids and I was in that respect very much her daughter. She idolised children. So now with my own fertility being in the spot light, I just wish I had her guidance so much at this time. She’d know what to say, so always did. I hold close to me that she believed I’d get pregnant, and that she knew she wouldn’t be there to see it but that she would love to be. It keeps me going and breaks me at the same time. Mum always wanted best for us, because that’s what mums do!

My mum was undoubtedly my best friend, I told her everything, we spoke all day every day and when that stopped there was a massive hole in my life, one that even now I think will always be there. Mum was the closest person to me, and the older I got the more both of our lives became entwined. If I ever wanted to do anything, I’d want to do it with her. And if she couldn’t be there with me, she’d come on the journey and be inundated with photos from me. Like wedding dress shopping hours away, she couldn’t be there so I went alone, took photos of what became my wedding dress and went back home so we could make the decision together. We always found ways around things and I honestly cherished every second. Cancer never stopped mum.

I take strength every day from my mums life, of everything she achieved in the face of adversity and how often life was so very cruel, yet she’d brush herself off put her lipstick on and outwardly smile. Mum was human though, she felt everything and she dealt with it all in a way I’ve never seen another person able to. She’s always going to be my main inspiration and motivation in life.

Every butterfly, robin and white feather falling in front of me I take as beautiful signs my mum is close and watching over me, the orbs that turn up in every photo in nature; I know are her and the visits in my dreams is mum trying to guide me in this life. When I feel at my lowest or most confused, I reach for my mums letter and hold her words and writing close to me and sob… she knew me so well and her letter reminds me of that eternally.

I keep mums cross necklace close to my heart, and spritz her perfume on myself when I need to feel her closest. Like my last operation, she always told me that if I need a cuddle from her to put on a big fluffy dressing gown … and that’s what I did, covered in her perfume. I’ve met two physics in the last two years, both completely unplanned and my momma has came through both times; with details that I can’t even explain. Her name, her life, her traits, her loves and passions all came out – things like “a woman has just arrived and given me some pink fluffy socks to give you” , momma always gave me pink fluffy socks, because my feet where always cold …each Christmas in my presents would be pink fluffy socks. Another encounter and mum warned me about things that have recently come true, warned me against people and situations and sent me messages about fertility. Whether you believe or not, I’ve found comfort from both these encounters. To me it’s little things that let me know that life without mum, is still life with mum, just I physically can’t get to her.

Some of my mums last words to me where “make sure you get this operation and push for Endo”, they happened a while before she passed away but in her final days there were no words. My life in these past two years have been nothing more than pushing for my own health and I won’t ever stop being my mothers child.

Not everything in life does happen for a reason, other than that reason being cruel. Whilst I wish more than anything that my mum was still here, every second of every day, I can’t imagine the years of pain and suffering she must have faced and that ultimately there was nothing any of us could do to stop that. Death is the hardest, but seeing the people you love suffer every single day is even harder. Two years ago today the suffering ended, and peace was restored back to my beautiful momma’s body, she gained her angel wings and ascended higher into the universe; where she took her position as our family and friends guardian angel. The most radiant angel that there ever is or could be, my beautiful little momma bear.

My mum will forever be my favourite xox

Grief

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