I wrote this on Sunday...which marked 5 years since I lost my Mother. Sometimes it just helps to brain dump. And sometimes it helps for those closest to us to have access to those brain dumps. This is for those people :)
Today marks 5 years since we lost you. Half a decade. 5 years of change, transition....
When you took your last breaths, all that was on your mind was your children. Would we be ok. Would I look after my little sister? Would she look after me? Would we be damaged, as people, losing both our parents?
I know how it hurt you to leave and not for yourself. For us. You believed fully in your heart that you were headed to a Heaven where you would be reunited with my Father, the love of your life, your soulmate. I hope you were right.
"Look after her," you said to me as my sister stood next to me a coulpe of days after you told us you were to die.
"Look after him," you then went on to say to her.
You made some accurate observations about us both. You predicted things for our future that I thought were just insane back then but that all seem to be coming to fruition.
I miss you just as much today as I missed you on the very first morning that I woke up to a world without you, Mum. I'm a self-confessed Mother's boy and I am actually quite proud of it. Just because you're no longer here doesn't mean that changes.
I'm still lost without you, but I manage much better these days to navigate my way around. I even smile :) I want YOU to know that I am HAPPY. It took a long time. But I was given some wonderful gifts in the years following your death. A son and, more recently, a wife-to-be.
I find myself saying things you said to me to your Grandson. You'd love him. He's cheeky, clever and very sweet. And beneath that cheeky (almost cocky) facade of his, is a perfect little gentleman who is more sensitive than he really knows how to deal with yet. He's got some front, that's for sure. But he's just a baby. And when the day is done and he's got his PJs on, it's "snuggles on the couch time." Whenh e wakes from a bad dream, he's just a tiny little boy seeking comfort. Despite that (a little bit too) smart head on his shoulders, he is a baby. No amount of intelligence can equip him to deal with what he's been through. But I've drawn on experience of my own and putting myself in his little tiny shoes has made it all the easier for me to be able to understand what he is going through.
He was the same age when he lost his Mother as I was when we lost Dad. Although I chose to forget I even remembered for many years, I dug deep and found those memories and used them to help him. We talk candidly and openly now about you, about Anje and about my Dad. He has a picture of you in his bedroom and calls you his "Pretty Nanna." It's adorable. I've never been one to believe in an afterlife, but he knows things about you that I have never told him and tells me tales of night time visitors that don't scare him. I can never know how much of that is his imagination or how much of it is really true. Do you hold is hand in the night time?
And the other big announcement in my life is my wedding in May. You'd be so proud. You met Chloe once, Mum. When I was at University. I may even have intropduced her as my "buddy," or something similar. But she made an impression on you as I recall you telling me later, "She would be a nice girlfriend Adam. Pretty girl, eloquent and an honest smile."
"Chloe has a GIRLfriend, Mum," I told you. And we said nothing more on the matter.
Well, times change and she is indeed a wonderful Fiancee and will be a more wonderful wife. She's a great Mother to your Grandson and I know I will never want anyone else as long as I breathe. We're talking about children (perhaps sooner rather than later). We're moving out of the city at the end of February and back out of town to a beautiful house with plenty of space and huge garden. It's a bit out of the way of the office, but it's beautiful and just what the little one needs.
And you will be pleased to know that I am indeed looking after Stacey. Her little one is almost 2. Where did that time go? He's a funny little guy and looks just like her. We're a family. We do family things and a weekly dinner, just as I know you would have wanted. And you're in our hearts, every single day, in every step we take, every word we say and in every thought that crosses our mind.
I miss you, Mum.
Always your doting son,