To My Friends Who Still Have Their Mums.

I wish I could remember how this felt

This is a blog post aimed at my friends who are lucky enough to still have their Mum’s in their lives. If any of my friends, like me, are unfortunate enough to have also lost their Mums, big hugs, but feel free to forward this post on to your own friends who have their Mother’s in their lives, you’ll understand why when you read it. 

My Mum died 25 days, 3 hours and 10 minutes ago, yes I count down, every day, every hour, there isn’t a second which goes by where I don’t think about her, and as I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, my first thought of her is always of her led in her hospital bed at home, struggling to breathe, unable to move for herself, and that’s the hardest, because it’s a constant reminder of the fight she fought to live, despite the fact that she was dying. 

Never in a million years did I expect to lose my Mum at such a young age, with me being 25, and her being 51, both far too young for something like this. But here I am, for the first time in almost 26 years, motherless. It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks, and it’ll be the first one where I won’t get a text or phone call from Mum wishing me a happy birthday. I knew she was dying, I knew we didn’t have long with her, but in my head I still imagined we’d have years, as if the doctors had made a mistake when they said she had cancer. Nothing could have helped me prepare for Mum’s death, even when the two of us spoke about her funeral and how she wanted to die, it still didn’t prepare me for a life without her. Death had a way of taking her far before I was ready.

Next Mother’s day, while I will still receive love and gifts, I can’t send them, it will be the first time I won’t be able to tell her how much I love her. It will be the first time I can’t thank her for everything she did for me, and what she is yet to do. It will be the first time I won’t be able to thank her for everything she has taught me about being a Mum to my own children, her granddaughters. And it will be the first time where I cannot express how much she has impacted on my life, as a Mum as well as a person. 

So, to every one of my friends and readers who still have their Mum’s, regardless of how close you are, regardless of how far apart you are, speak to her. Whether you see eye to eye, disagree on everything, tell her how much you love her and tell her she’s one in a million. Whether she’s shown you the love you deserve or hasn’t been there for you, tell her how much you appreciate her. Whether she’s been the perfect Mum or not, tell her how much she’s taught you, whether she was a good role model or not. 

She might not be the perfect Mum, she might be the worst Mum there is, but she’s still here, and that alone leaves so many opportunities for reconciliation, to make up for lost time. Please, I beg you, ring her or text her, write her a letter or even go round and see her, hug her, kiss her, embrace every moment and cherish every day. I’d give my last breath to see my Mum just one more time. I’d spend the whole time looking at her, taking every single bit of her I could, her smell, the colour of her eyes, her smile, her voice, everything. Right now I’m grieving, and I’m grieving hard for a woman I loved more than life itself, she was my first home, the first person I saw, the first person who held me, and the first person who told me she loved me. I’m struggling to get through each day because I’m so overwhelmed at losing my Mum and I don’t know how I’m still standing at the end of each day, but I am. If Mum can fight, so can I. 

So please, go and see her, speak to her, hug her, and if you don’t get on just reach out to her. If she doesn’t respond then at least you can say you tried. The only saving grace I have from watching Mum take her final breath is that there was physically nothing more I could do. I helped her when she needed it, I kept her company when she was scared and lonely,I set her mind at rest when she was terrified of hospital appointments, and I was there for her when she took her last breath. Just spend one single day talking to your Mum, you never know when it’ll be your last.a