As a child, December was my favourite month. From the 5th to the 9th, using all of my willpower, I used to save up my advent calendar chocolates. On the morning of the 10th, sleepy eyed, I would sit in between my parents as Mum would give me my birthday presents and I would indulge in the chocolates that I had been saving for my big day.
I can’t help but wonder: does my memory serve me? Or, have you have been gone so long that I can barely find the memory?
She was my hero, and my best friend. She would always look after me, help me and guide me, and it strikes me that twelve, thirteen years later, I don’t have that.
When we put the photos in, and I put it on, I didn’t feel happy. I felt safe. I felt like, now I have my locket, Mummy will always be in the right ventricle of my heart, and I could always show people a picture of my Mum. I felt more relaxed, like I didn’t have to try so hard to keep remembering. But most of all, I felt close to Mummy.
Losing our mum aged me in so many ways, which I have mentioned a lot in blog posts before. Mum would always call me a “party girl” which used to make me cringe, but I quite liked the colourful description. I liked that people thought I was colourful and energetic.
Today, I chose to take a “Grief Day” – a term I use to coin a day entirely devoted to feeling grief. A day when I turn to myself for the home comforts just as my mum used to on those sick days from school.
I’m made up for my little sister and best friend. So proud of how she has overcome every challenge thrown at her and still able to find the positive in every situation.