Memories

I don't have many pictures of me with my Mum. This isn't even one, this is her with my brother. But she was beautiful, her smile lit up a room, and I am so proud when people say I look like her. (Dave hasn't changed in 40 years either!)

She would have been 75 today, but 20 years ago next week, less than a week after her 55th birthday, she passed away after a long hard battle with leukaemia. I was 21, and of course because she was my Mum, 55 felt like a real old age. Now I'm 41, and have many friends in their fifties and older, I realise it was no age at all.

For some reason today has hit me harder than the same day over the last 20 years, maybe its because its such a milestone. I remember every detail of that last day like it was yesterday. The horrible rushing to the hospital, the desperate wait for my brother to arrive from up North, praying he'd make it in time. He did, thank God, and him softly singing her favourite song to her is one of my abiding memories, because even though she wasn't awake, I know, I just know, she knew he was there. And all of us being there, Dad, Dave and me, at the end.

This isn't meant to be a morbid post. I am always grateful that I was with her when she passed, and losing her so early has made me want to live each day as if it was my last. Some days I succeed with that better than others but hey ho.

So, happy birthday Mum. Love you and miss you. Thank you for making me who I am, and for being who I aspire to be.

Pud xxxx