What I miss most about my mum…
My dad died 11 years before my mum passed away. For 11 years, it was just her being the parent. She fulfilled both roles for me. I really felt the loss of my dad. So, on each occasion when I’d feel his absence, my mum would check on me. His birthday, Father’s Day, my birthday… you get the picture. It was so comforting to know that she was there, having my back, supporting me 100%. When she died, I lost all of that. Suddenly, it wasn’t just the loss of my mum, but it was also the loss of my mum checking on me. It was like a double loss. The feeling of loneliness was immense. I was, quite suddenly, the adultiest person in my life. I was solely responsible for making decisions without any input from her. My mum was my mentor, my best friend, my greatest supporter, and the only person who could keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. She kept it real for me. She was fiercely proud of my achievements but also made sure I didn’t beat myself up too much with my mistakes. There’s no-one on the planet like her and no-one can do for me what she did.
She was incredibly funny. She had a quirky sense of humour and she managed to get away with jokes that could easily be taken the wrong way. She was warm and EVERYBODY who met her instantly loved her. She was a mother figure to so many people. She was wise. She learnt a lot through her struggles and, as a result, had a lot of wisdom to impart. She took people under her wing and tried to help them as much as she could. If she loved you, then you were family. Not related? Who cares! She knew that family wasn’t designated by blood, but it was who you chose to be by your side. If she called you her family, then you had a supporter who would be there for you, no matter what. The woman could cook. It didn’t matter what it was, it was delicious. Except for crumpets. She tried to make crumpets once and it was a disaster that she never lived down. My dad may have threatened to use them as bricks in a building project. All her other baking was second to none. She used to see a recipe that she wanted to try. She would make it, not eat any of it and give it to me to take it into work. That became a project for her. She would bake her latest recipe and all my work mates would reap the benefits. All she wanted to do was bake. I miss that.
I desperately miss her love. I miss her guidance. I miss her warmth of spirit. I miss her laugh. I miss her singing horribly off key to get her own way. I miss her cheeky nature. I just miss her presence in my life, and I feel for all of those people who miss her too.
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