• george


Just under 10 years on and I have barely even spoke to anyone about my mum for longer than a few minutes without changing the subject or backing out of the conversation, so this is a big step for me to broadcast some thoughts, feelings and memories on the internet.

Being 7 years old at the time I have very few memories of the time or how I felt. One thing I remember very well is when Dad told me for the first time that Mum might not make it. We were taking the dog for a walk by the fleet at the time and he stopped me and told me, I don’t remember how I felt, just the situation. Being 7 years old meant that I knew what death was, or at least the concept of it, but no clue of what it really was, what it would mean for me, my family and all those close to us and of course I had no idea what cancer was and what it was capable of, I just knew mum was ill.

The second most prominent memory I have around the time was the morning I found out Mum had passed. It was in the living room at our old house, I was sat on the sofa, I have a hazy memory of who was in the room at the time but I remember Granny and Grandad being there, my Auntie Hellen and me and Dad, others were there too. Dad was sat on the arm of the chair next to me holding my shoulder, he told us that mum had passed away peacefully in the night with him and my Uncle Clive holding her hands. This memory really gets to me, I can’t even write it here without breaking down.This is also one of the only moments when I have ever seen my Dad upset, the strongest man I know.

Another memory although it seems small it means a lot to me, is the one of the only two times in my life that I can remember that I've hugged my oldest Brother. It was after Mum's funeral and we were stood out the front of the church after the service. The second time being relatively recently.

I have very very few memories of me and Mum, mainly because I was so young but also because some are probably obstructed by grief. This makes me sad but I know we laughed and had fun together.

One of the memories I do have though is in the living room when I chipped the corner off one of the tiles in our fireplace with the handlebars of my new scooter. Mum was upstairs at the time and I ran and hid in the shed for about 15 minutes, for fear she should shout at me, until she could find me. She coaxed me out with a promise not to be angry and then gave me a hug and everything was fine again.

On to a different note. Today my littler big Brother, Tom, ran a half marathon for the hospice that cared for Mum in her final moment, Weldmar. I thought to myself, I'm not sure what Mum would be more proud of, the fact Tom just RAN 13 miles or of the £750+ that he raised for the organisation that helped her so much. I'm very proud and I know she would be more so.

I hope people find this helpful and insightful, because I definitely did. I hate talking, and hate sharing feelings even more, but people don’t lie when they say sharing helps, because it really does. This is hopefully first of many blog posts, now I have found the courage to write one I'm sure inspiration will come to write more.

Happy Mother’s Day all x



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