14th October 1985, the phone rings. “Hello son, this is dad. We’re going to hospital; it looks like this is it, do you want to come?” I declined. I couldn’t face going to see my mum die. She was cremated ten days later and I turned 20 four more days after that.
Suddenly you were gone, and all the lives you left a mark upon.
For me Mother’s day is a Jekyll and Hyde affair. I love it because of the excitement and joy that Keira Carole and I share as a family. Carole is a wonderful mum and Keira and I enjoy letting her know. Not just on Mother’s day – Keira often leaves messages and drawings and little love notes around the place – and I try to remember to tell Carole often that I think she’s a top mum too. Equally I find the day a sad one because for me – time is not a great healer. It merely puts greater distance between me and that very sad and painful day.
Of course I would dearly love to have enjoyed my mum’s support and generosity and love for longer, who wouldn’t? And shit happens and we have to deal with it. I take huge comfort from the fact that I spent very nearly nineteen fabulous years learning from mum. She taught me many useful things, among the very best of which are:
- Be yourself
- Get on with it
- Be kind to yourself and others
- Make mistakes and learn from them
I’m driven to live these things and I love it.
photo c/o my dad