Her favourite place ...

We used to go for walks together here with Mum. It is also the site of the first egg rolling championships. It's near Harewood House and somewhere I take my children now. You can see for miles and miles. We scattered Mum's ashes here, but I don't remember much about that.

Usually I don't ponder the significance when I'm there but the last time I went was Mother's Day. I walked with a lump in my throat. I had wanted to take a picture of the view but there were loads of people milling about so I couldn't get a good shot.

My Sister took this picture last week and sent it to me. The bench wasn't there when Mum was alive. I like to think it's somewhere she would have sat looking over her favourite view and thinking.

A walk in the park ...

As we approach Mother's Day my thoughts are with my Mum. I found this picture last week in a photo album. I pore over photos like this looking at every little detail.

Just everyday life.

I slept on it and out popped my pride ...

This was first published on Are We Nearly There Yet, my other blog, in April.

Once again http://www.stickyfingers1.blogspot.com/ has gone and done it again. This weeks Gallery subject is the 7 deadly sins. The sins are: Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy, Gluttony.

Why she couldn't just have the subject as 'dog', 'child' or 'holiday snap' I don't know.

So, I spent FOREVER going through pictures only to find pictures of my children, our wedding and/or our dog which I decided were boring.

So I slept on it and the following morning dug these out and found some pictures I am very proud of.

Three pictures of a mother and child. My mother. I am the child. I only had my Mum for nine years. I have difficulty with memories during those years.

Luckily I have photos, quite a few in fact. I don't just look at the photos, I pore over them I wonder what she was thinking, doing, wearing ... just any glimpse of anything that makes me feel a bit closer to her.

Now that I am a mother they mean even more to me.

I think the would have been proud of me, as I am of her.

Blogging Became Our Therapy ...

The article below features me. It's in April's issue of Company magazine which is out now and is part of a series of four stories entitled 'Blogging Became Our Therapy'.

This blog has been the most cathartic thing I've done in terms of my grief. Writing about my Mum and how I feel about it has helped me to understand myself better and put to bed some of the bad feelings I have.

My loss is ever present, but each time I write on this blog I feel as though I'm writing away some of the pain.

If you click on the article below it will open up so you can actually read it. On a lighter note, if you want to read about the photo-shoot relating to the article click here.

This months Company magazine is written lots of different bloggers, there is a competition here ... where you could vote for me if you are feeling particularly generous!

It's Never too Late For Counseling

I had counseling for my bereavement 2 years ago, 21 years after my Mum died.

My Mum had been ill for two years when she died. I didn't know she was going to die, I had been sheltered from the harsh truth, although I knew she was very poorly.

When Mum died, there was a general feeling amongst the family of relief. As an adult I can see why. Everyone had watched my Mum suffering and in pain with terminal cancer. She was no longer suffering.

I on the other hand was confused. I cried, most evenings, and we all talked about my Mum, but the families relief turned into a lets get on with it attitude and that's what we did.  I suppose I just got carried along with everyone else.

I felt a bit silly when I first contacted Cruse 21 years after Mum had died, but they assured me that is never too late to get help.  They put me in touch with a local bereavement charity and I was put on their waiting list.  4 weeks later I was matched with a counselor, Emily.

Emily and I would meet once a week and I would talk and cry. After 21 years I had a lot to talk about and a lot of tears!  I would go home after each session feeling, somehow, lighter.  

Our sessions ended when Christmas came along and a series of events meant that we were unable to meet. It was then that I decided I was alright and didn't need to go anymore. I think I was probably wrong about that and should have continued. I am looking into going back to counseling. 

Here are a couple of charities that I believe could have helped me and my family if they had been around when I'd suffered my loss;

Winston's Wish, the leading children's bereavement charity believes that the right support at the right time can help young people to live with their grief and build positive futures.

The Way Foundation offers friendship and support to young bereaved people. They help widows and widowers rebuild their lives after the death of a partner.

I would advise anyone in a similar situation to go for counseling and get help sooner rather than later.  I think it could have made a big difference to my life.

In the arms of death

We walked into the hospice passing the nuns at the front desk. I think I was with my Scottish grandparents.

I remember being in the lift, then walking into the private pale green room with it's big window out over the gardens.

The next second or so of my life is still the most vivid and horrific memory I have of my Mum.

My Mum was sat up against pillows on the hospital bed, she was gaunt, skeletal and staring into space. She looked straight through me. The shock of seeing her like that made me actually jump, I can still remember the feeling of my heart racing in horror as I tried to regain my composure.

I remember nothing more about that visit but I know that it was the last time I ever saw her. She died a day or so after.

I hope that she didn't see me jump, see the shock on my face. I hope the drugs were so strong that she didn't even know I was there.

Sharing the heart ...

My Dad sent me this today on my 31st birthday, 3 years after my wedding;

Laura

I was in the library the other day and found the book which had a passage that I always intended reading at your wedding. I was really depending on using the reading at your wedding as my abilities at making speeches are akin to Mike Tyson attempting flower arranging - with gloves on! But, unfortunately, I mislaid the book during one of our many house moves. It is from In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith.

The character, Mma Makutsi, has just accepted a proposal of marriage and is contemplating the moment. She reminds me of you (leaving aside the fact that she is black, African and wears large Deirdre Barlow spectacles) and the thoughts that would pass through your mind.

Mma Makutsi gathered her thoughts, standing before the window, looking out to the trees in the distance and the evening sun on the grey-green hills beyond the trees. She had so much to think about: her past, and the place from where she had come; her family who would be so pleased with this news up there in Bobonong; and her late brother, Richard, who would never know about this, unless, of course, he was watching from somewhere, which he might be, for all she knew. She loved this country, which was a good place, and she loved those with whom she lived and worked. She had so much love to give – she had always felt that – and now there was somebody to whom she could give this love, and, that, she knew was good; for that is what redeems us, that is what makes our pain and sorrow bearable – this giving of love to others, this sharing of the heart.

Happy birthday!

Love

Pops

Click Click Click

I have very few memories of my mother.

The trauma of her death at a young age has wiped a lot of my early memory and kept a lot of memories I’d rather have lost.

I was 7 when she was diagnosed with cancer and 9 when she died.

I have memories of my childhood … hundreds … but not many with her in them.

I have boxes and albums stuffed with photos. I often look through them and it can trigger memories of an event but not of the interaction we shared, normal everyday moments shared between a mother and child. The kind of moments I share with my children that I know I shared with her but have no recollection of.

A goodnight kiss, snuggling up for a bedtime story, holding hands as we walk down the street … all gone in the dust of death.

I have only two very different memories that have stayed.

Memory 1

We were at a neighbour’s house. I was playing with my friends; the adults were all chatting and laughing in the living room. It must have been a party of sorts because there were a lot of people there. We were running up and down the stairs, racing round the house. It was late, I was tired and hot and I went to my mum for a cuddle. She sat me on her knee; she lifted my long hair up and blew cold air on my neck to cool me down, breaking off to laugh with her friends. We sat like that for a long time, together.

It is a tender moment that I treasure.

Memory 2

Driving somewhere, just the two of us, Mum and me. I was sat in the backseat. I had a plastic toy gun which made a click noise when the trigger was pulled. Cheap plastic against cheap plastic; Click, Click, Click.

I realised that this noise, although not annoying to me, was grating to my mum. I evidently clicked one too many times because I was told in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t stop it would be going out of the car window. I must have weighed up the seriousness of her threat before … CLICK.

Without saying a word, and still driving, she removed the gun from my hand, wound down the window and threw it, wound up her window and continued on our journey as if nothing had happened.

I have a lot of memories of my father’s parenting which was fairly laid back unless I crossed the line in which case I knew about it.

I often think about the way I parent my own children. On a bad day I am a ‘show no mercy’ gun slinger and on a good day I am a laid back tender neck blower.

I need to learn how to be a mixture of gun slinger and laid back tender neck blower all the time!

Originally posted on Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy? last year

A Mum Shaped Hole

Would she think they look like me?

Would she admire my handsome boy all snails, scooters and bold adventure?

Would she smile at my beautiful girl all bossy and hands on hips smelling of apples and wilful charm?

Would her heart melt when they called her name?

Would she be my shoulder to cry on when life is tough?

Would we laugh so hard that tears would fall?

I wish they had known her, and I for longer

I wish she was here

I miss my mum.

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Originally written last year and posted on Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy?

Mothers Day Letter - 2009

Dear Laura

I thought that as it is Mother's Day this weekend I would let you know what a fantastic mother you are and how proud I am of the way you and [the husband] are bringing up your children.

[the 3 year old] and [the 4 year old] are wonderful children with terrific outgoing and intelligent personalities which is a lot to do with your skills as a mother.

I know only too well the huge void that you feel with the loss of your mother but I am positive that she is watching over you and, had she lived to see her grandchildren she would be equally proud of you.

Your blog posts are amazing and reading them from far away in Spain has kept me close to you all and given me so much pleasure.

My Mother's Day present to you is a picture to remind you I am now just over the hill!

All my love

Pops