A few of my friends have lost parents this year and I tell them that, for me, the first year was the worst, after that, I knew I could get through all the anniversaries because I already had once. That's not to say they are easier, but just that the next day would come. Now, I am 6 years to the day since I sat with my beautiful Mum while she slipped away from us after 13 years of this horrible disease. Of course, this means that I didn't lose her 6 years ago but in a much worse way, painfully slowly over the previous years. I miss her every day but I have got on with living as best I can. But today has hit me like a freight train and all I can envisage is her actual death. It was mercifully peaceful, at home with Dad and I holding her hands but it was still horrible and painful and unfair. I know tomorrow will come but right now, as I sit in my office trying not to cry, it doesn't feel like it.
I found this poem I wrote a few years before she died. I have never written poetry before, nor since, but wanted to share it.
The clock ticks by, I want my Mum.
My birthday, a day of celebration,
My mother no longer there.
Where is that woman, full of life?
She sits and smiles and laughs
Like a cuckoo, she's not my mum.
Where is the fire in her eyes and heart?
Where is the woman whom I loved?
Where is the advice I want now I'm older?
The advice I thought I could do without.
It's all gone, killed off by fire
A fire that has decimated her memories
It is relentless, ever growing in force
The debris is there with slivers of remains
She hugs and kisses and says she loves us
She's not the same.
Where is my Mum?
I found this poem I wrote a few years before she died. I have never written poetry before, nor since, but wanted to share it.
The clock ticks by, I want my Mum.
My birthday, a day of celebration,
My mother no longer there.
Where is that woman, full of life?
She sits and smiles and laughs
Like a cuckoo, she's not my mum.
Where is the fire in her eyes and heart?
Where is the woman whom I loved?
Where is the advice I want now I'm older?
The advice I thought I could do without.
It's all gone, killed off by fire
A fire that has decimated her memories
It is relentless, ever growing in force
The debris is there with slivers of remains
She hugs and kisses and says she loves us
She's not the same.
Where is my Mum?