Dreading Mother's Day

I'm not looking forwards to Mother's Day this Sunday. I feel lost without my mum and uncomfortable with the notion of celebrating or even talking about mother's, when I don't have one.

I know that she's only been gone for a few weeks and I'm told that in time I will just learn to live with hole that her death has left inside me but it's just too soon for that now.

Since she died in January my inbox has been like a slow dripping tap of shoddy approaches from PR's desperately trying to scrape every possible inch of coverage from the Mother's Day cash cow. I know that sounds bitter but when 9 out of 10 emails begin with...

'Hi Mummy-Tips, We have been following your blog for quite some time and we just love it. Especially that post you wrote on xxx (pick anything from the archive and paste), it was brilliant. I'm approaching you on behalf of a brand Y and we would love to know if you are planning a Mother's Day feature that we could get involved in?'

It has taken every, single, ounce of my good nature not to reply to these delightful approaches, explaining that if they had actually looked at my blog this year they would know that my mum is dead.

I came close on many occasions. Then today I read this beautiful post from my pal Eva. She's another motherless, cynic with a PR background...

I found comfort in her words and the realisation that it wasn't just me struggling with this crap. We decided to celebrate International Women's Day (on Friday) and to just try to get through Sunday the best way we know how. 

All was good - until this afternoon I asked my fellow Facebook, Candy Crush, pals for a new life and who should pop up in my 'selected friend' list? 

Yes, my mum. 

I'm impressed that she's reaching out to me via social media but, boy do I miss her....

I love you mum. x

Mum

It's been a tough week and despite my mum being ill for so many years, one that none of us really saw coming.

I was woken by the phone ringing very early on Tuesday morning. The home phone never rings, we don't even have a handset upstairs but I knew right away the conversation that lay waiting for me on the other end of the line. I raced to the phone and despite knowing what he was going to say, my brother's words hit me like a ton of bricks. BOOM. After twenty plus years of suffering from emphysema my mum had just passed away. 

Practicalities kicked in and my brother, No1 son and I headed to my dad in Cornwall. We had strength in each other's company but dad's phone rang constantly and seeing him break just a little bit further with each and every call chipped away at us.

I chose to see her at the hospital and it hit me then that she was really gone, that I didn't have a mum anymore. That was quite simply the worst moment of my life. 

Please cherish yours because when she's gone you will need her more than you ever did.

I dedicate this post to my mum, who despite battling such an awful illness for so long, was a huge inspiration to so many others.

I love you mum.

My Mum

Given the weekend that I've just had, this weeks The Gallery theme of A Family Story really couldn't be more fitting.

My mum has been ill for a long time. She has emphysema or COPD. In 1996 she had revolutionary lung reduction surgery to give her another five years. In December 2011 she had a letter from her consultant congratulating her on making it to 15 years post op.

She's a fighter, just plain stubborn, a bit of both.

Every winter is a struggle.

She rattles due to the cocktail of drugs that keep her going, she's ballooned due to the steroids, she needs additional oxygen round the clock and that's when she's well.

When a bug hits she is back to hospital. In and out for weeks on end sometimes. Chest infections, pneumonia, heart attacks, depression. I've lost count of the mad dash 270 mile journeys I've made to Cornwall to see her.

For a whole bundle of reasons we aren't a close family but after getting a call from my dad on Friday evening followed by a call with her nurse the next morning I knew that I had to get to her - and fast. They said this was it, that she wouldn't last the weekend.

It was a sad couple of days, lifted only by the fact that I had Ethan and my big brothers by my side.

Saying goodbye to her was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. She couldn't really speak and the look in her eyes said that we would never see each other again. Ethan saw it too and when I close my eyes I can see it. It makes me feel completely empty inside.

It's Wednesday today and she's still with us, fighting, stubborn.

So to my picture, this is the only photograph I have of mum and me. It was taken in Cornwall when I was 12 before the emphysema took hold.

I dedicate this post to my mum and I pray that she keeps on fighting because I need her, I know that now.

Don't forget to check out the other posts in this week's The Gallery.