Today is my first Mothers Day without you and, to be honest, I’ve been finding it really difficult.
We’ve always done something for the day, whether it’s going out for a meal, going for a drive to Chatsworth House or even just seeing a film. I know we missed a few days when you were on shifts but at least I knew you were coming home so I could give you your flowers and a card.
This year, I know you’re never coming home.
I never realized how much I needed you still until you were gone and how much I’m going to need you in the future.
I’ll never get to tell you how much I love you every day and to hear you say ‘Love you too’.
You’ll never get to see me getting married like we’d planned with you coming up the aisle with me on your zimmer to ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. Now I’ll have two empty chairs at the front with the pictures of Dad and you.
You’ll never get to be the grandma that you know you desperately wanted to be and I still feel guilty every day that I never got a partner and got pregnant for you to enjoy that. You used to love watching all the baby shows and look at baby clothes when we were shopping. At least you bought a little Peppa Pig baby-gro and came up with the name ‘Olivia Jane’ for if I ever have a daughter.
It doesn’t matter that if I’m 30. I really wish you were here today.
People say I’m being so strong and that you both would be really proud of me, but I feel the youngest that I’ve ever been and the most foolish. It’s stupid to think but I worry now that you’ve seen all the stupid things I’ve done when you’ve not been around and heard all the lies that I wish I could take back. I know we fought sometimes and that I yelled at you when I was frustrated. Like you said, we were more like sisters than mother and daughter sometimes and I was honoured.
Seeing everyone buying cards and presents this week has been so difficult.
I wish shops would remember that not everyone will have their mum today or that mothers may have even lost their child. Maybe it’s selfish but I struggle at the best of time without having what I don’t have shoved in my face every time I walk in.
I’ve been listening to the voice messages you left me on my phone and you’d be laughing over the fact that I’m cried every time I did. You know I cried at every sad film and you always had to call me over to comfort me. Never got through Titanic with a dry eye, did I?
I guess the silver lining is is that you’re reunited with your own mum and get to spend your first Mothers Day with her in over 61 years.
If I do become a Mum one day, I hope I’m as brilliant as you were.
I love you, Mummy.
Happy Mothers Day.