Living with Grief: One Year Without Her

A letter to my Mum

Hi Mum, it’s only me.

I can’t believe it’s been a year since I last heard your voice, held your hand, kissed your face. I’ve missed you so much, in ways I didn’t know I would. I thought I was a grown-up with my own house, my daughter, my job, living away from home etc. How naive I was to think that. Losing you made me realise the safety blanket I’ve had wrapped around me my whole life without realising it. Something that was taken away from us so quickly.

In my darker moments, I relive the worst moments. The day we found out you had cancer, the visible pain you were in and the moment you took your last breath. I am so grateful I was there for you in that moment, I hope you knew how loved you were.

I wish you had told me more about being a motherless mother. I can understand why you didn’t, I know how painful it must have been. How lonely you must have been during those early years. I often think back to those early moments - I love looking at photos of us together, how happy you look and how happy and safe I look. I look at those with a different perspective now. I am overwhelmed with how brave you were. How selfless you were. You gave up so much to give us a happy childhood, you had no family to support you, and yet you never moaned or made it feel like it was hard. If I can be half the Mum you were to me, I’d be over the moon. I wish I had told you more how amazing you were, but the truth is - I didn’t know. I didn’t appreciate how much you did, and in the circumstances you did it. You were a real life superhero.

This year has been so hard, Mum. I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and speak to you every day. Cleo has grown into such a character, I know how much you would love her and enjoy her. She looks just like I did when i was her age. I wish I could ask you if I was as cheeky as her too. She has the most gorgeous smile, and an infectious laugh - one that reminds me of yours. She loves to sing and dance - I always imagine you dancing with her (both of you getting the words wrong!), I can picture it so clearly.

I do that often actually. Whenever I wish you were with us to share the moment, I close my eyes and I know exactly what you would say and the smile you’d have on your face. I am so sorry you don’t get to experience this with us, Mum.

There are so many things I wish I said to you and I hope you knew - you were my rock, the heartbeat of our family.

You still are.

I really believe that you’re watching us from somewhere and enjoying all of these moments with your Mum. I’m sure it’s hard when you see how upset and sad we are a lot of the time, but that is just a mark of how much you mean to us and how much we miss you.

Things still feel really hard, Mum. I hate that you’re not here. But you are my inspiration. You did all of this - friendships, work, joy - as a motherless mother. So I know I have it in me too.

With all my love, as always

x