Tuesday, 13 December 2016

You Never Stop Missing Them

Thirty-three years ago today, my Mum passed away.

I still remember the last time I saw her. She was watching television in the front room, and I said good night to her and gave her a kiss before I went to bed. I had no idea then that just a few hours later she would be gone.

Dad woke me the next morning to tell me the news. All I remember from that day is crying my heart out as he held me in his arms. Everything else from those few days is still quite a blur. I have brief memories of her funeral, and of my big sister Sue giving me the biggest hug I ever had.

Losing Mum when I was just twelve years old had a massive effect on my life, and I’m still feeling those effects today. Years battling depression, being bullied and called a bastard for the simple fact that my Mother had died, leaving school without any qualifications because I simply couldn’t take any more. All of this had a lasting effect on me for years.

I cherish every little thing that she taught me during those twelve short years, the values she instilled into me, the difference between right and wrong, the importance of hard work, and the importance of family.

I sometimes wonder what she would make of the forty-five year old me? Would she be proud of the person I’ve become? That’s something I really can’t answer. But I do know this: even though it’s been over three decades since her passing, I still miss her with all my heart, and I will continue to do so until my final breath.

Rest in peace Mum.

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