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I am taking a time out.
I have broken my laptop (for reasons I may explain one day) and I am tapping away on my mini iPad, which is not ideal for writing on. I sound like a princess having options but I won this in a raffle, promise!
I have been meaning to get a MacBook Air for a while anyway. Now I face the age-old decision that many of us do when buying a new toy. Finance, credit card or don’t go out for a few months? I’ll figure it out. In the scale of things, in the big picture – it really isn’t something I should worry about too much. I need to stop worrying. I will just head down to the Apple store today and let 18 blue t-shirt wearing, informative and exceedingly enthusiastic staff members decide for me! Bet you all a tenner I come out with extras ;).
Worrying is something that my Mum did very well, bless her. A protective and caring Mum – she freaked out about the smallest of things and it’s funny how some traits, that used to be irritating as a teenager, become so endearing later in life. It’s like Dad’s ‘Dad jokes’. Once they were horrendous in a no-way-am-I-related-to-him way. Then before I knew it I found myself laughing my head off and I am now one of his biggest fans.
Of course, I knew that I must have similarities to Mum, but it was only when she passed that these really became more apparent and more appreciated. I use my knife and fork to cut up my food in a weirdly neat way. Mum did that – so I now I enjoy it. When dying my hair I used to look in the mirror and think ‘Crikey – I look like Mum’. Now I look and realise how glad I am that I do. Sometimes even when I hum along to a tune, I notice it sounds like my Mum’s hum – well that’s OK then. She loved lists. I love lists. This list is endless.
It’s amazing that even all of the way up to my late twenties (ok very late), I didn’t fully digest the fact that the two people who have brought me into the world have passed on so many of their qualities. I feel guilty for any teenage strop I may have had. May? I feel guilty for every teenage strop I had. I wouldn’t be on this earth if it wasn’t for them. OK – this is sounding very obvious isn’t it? I know what I mean. Perhaps I should have stuck to an internal monologue, haha.
What I am trying to say is, ‘You don’t appreciate what you’ve got until it’s gone’ is a brutally real cliché. Obviously, I appreciated Mum and had an incredibly strong bond with her. I am proud to say that I don’t regret a thing and I constantly told her how much I love her. I’m glad I did. I mean, people may assume that it’s the big things that you miss, but that is not alway the case. Those little things get you too. I miss doing her nails, watching her do crosswords, seeing how much she loved settling in for a Corrie night, hearing her calming voice when I have a rubbish day, stroking my hair, her calling me ‘Pet’, walking arm in arm with her and nattering on the phone after an episode of Got to Dance to discuss who we thought the best acts were. I will never forget that we were mid-way through a series of that when she passed. We had discussed who we thought would win. And she was right. Mum’s are often right aren’t they :).
Occassionally I worry that there is a misconception about this blog. I worry folk assume that by writing this and being so open, it must mean that I am ok or dealing with things well. That is not true. I am still hurting. I am still in a huge amount of pain. But this has given me something to be excited about, to distract me and hopefully show that sometimes it’s good to talk. BT were on to something there.
This is a special post. No photos, no letters and no story. It breaks my heart that Mum can’t hear about the 60 Postcards journey but this is why I need to keep going and embrace every single moment.
I’m experiencing this for her too.
Every day is a gift. Make this one a good’un 😀 x