The philosophy of life - speak no evil, hear no evil, see no evil
This year on August 7th marked 13 years since your passing. 13 years since I held your hand, 13 years since I heard you call my name and 13 years since I looked into your beautiful blue eyes. Not a day passes where I don't think of you. You were an amazing woman and mother. I was so blessed that for 27 years, you were mine. In that time, I got to know you as a woman and not just as my mum. We did so much together in the time we had and for that I am glad. Concerts, holidays, day trips and special mum and daughter time. Memories which I hold dear to my heart. We laughed, argued, cried and lived but always loved.
You had an amazing sense of humour and taught me not to be so serious and to laugh at myself! You were always so positive even though life was not always easy, it never got you down. Now time has passed, I often remember you with a smile and not with a tear. I also remember most of the advice you gave me during the time we had together but one conversation stuck in my memory more then most.
When I was 16, we had 'the talk'. You advised me not to have children until later in life. You were frank in your speech when you told me that if you could turn back time, you wouldn't have had my brother and I so early. You told me to travel, have a good career and do all the things that you didn’t get to do. Later in life after raising us, you built yourself back up and had a good job. You started to travel and even drove a sporty little number when you devastatingly passed away at just 52.
As you know, I heeded your advice. I had a fantastic job, travelled the world and at age 24, I purchased my first property. I can remember the excitement of collecting the keys and going shopping with you for my first home. Whenever I travelled, you never once lectured me on staying safe or what to do or what not to because you trusted that you had brought me up well enough to just know. When I announced my plans, you would just say “go get me your bags and I’ll pack for you.” I miss that as you were an expert packer but you will be glad to know that I still roll and not fold.
I can see and appreciate now, Mum that for those earlier years you lived your life through me and as long as I was doing all of those amazing things, you were happy. Selfless. You were always completely selfless and giving. We were together when the consultant told you that your cancer was terminal. I’ll never forget how you turned to me and said that you were sorry for ruining my life by dying and that was the only time I saw you cry throughout your whole illness. You didn’t ruin my life, Mum. You gave me life and molded me expertly into the woman I am today. You were strong, brave and selfless right up till the end. I can only hope that I have become half the amazing woman and mother that you were.
They say that you shouldn’t regret anything in life and it’s a statement that just doesn’t sit true for me, for the biggest regret that I have in heeding your advice is that you never got to become a grandmother. You never got to meet your 2 beautiful grandchildren and they were robbed of having the world’s most amazing Nana. I was to become a mother without having you there. When I gave birth, on both occasions, I took your photograph with me and whenever I felt like I couldn’t go on I looked you straight in the eye and could hear you telling me to get on with it. Just like you always did.
You did a grand job in advising me against motherhood until later life but now you’re not around, it makes it so much more difficult. I often think back to my childhood and I seriously don’t know how you did it all. I wish you were here to let me in on the secret. Had you been here, you would've told me that Weetabix dries to a concrete like substance when not immediately wiped up, that WWF style wrestling moves would be required when cutting a toddler’s toe nails and warned me to never, ever leave an unopened pot of Sudacreme laying around.
I also wish that you were here for me to apologise for being the world’s worst teenager at times and for turning your hair grey. To say sorry for all of the awful times when Bruv and I drove you insane as children. Those are the times that I can see and recognise only now as my children do it to me. I’m quite certain that you are sitting up there on your cloud laughing at the payback I am now receiving.
Becoming a mum is so rewarding and beautiful but it is also demanding and difficult but becoming a mother without having my own around makes it that much more harder, Mum. Life isn’t a bowl of cherries as you would say. On days when things get tough, I soldier on and always will as after all.....I am your daughter and you’d set me a fantastic example and for that, I will always be grateful.
Love as always,
(Andrea also blogs at In Mama's Wardrobe)
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