a letter to my mother she will never read

A letter to my mother she will never read tv#

A letter to my mother she will never read tv#

Whenever I’d visit my father’s house I’d come down in the morning before anyone else was up and watch TV in the lounge like I always did. It was as though my brain just wouldn’t accept that she was gone forever. I’d see something on TV that I knew she’d be interested in and I’d go to pick up the phone and call her before reality hit me. I’d walk past an arts and craft shop and my first thought would be to take her there the next time she was down. In the months after her death I just couldn’t grasp that she was gone. Even then, I still just couldn’t believe it. And then when my brother turned up, well think a British billion times worse (that’s a million million). We were both inconsolable and if you ever find yourself imagining what a situation like that is like, imagine it a million times worse. It’s times like that you realise when you’ve grown up and become an adult. All my life my dad had been the one to comfort me in times of sadness but this time he was the one holding onto me and I was the one comforting him. My dad came over to me and something I didn’t expect then happened. I arrived home before my brother (who’d been staying with me that weekend and was driving himself to my dad’s) and stepped into the hall.

Him phoning me again later (I can’t remember if I’d left to drive home or was just about to leave) to tell me she had died just didn’t seem real – I was numb. Obviously he wouldn’t, but my instinct was that it couldn’t be happening. When my father phoned me early one morning to tell me my mother was dying the first words I said to him were “you’re joking”.

And that’s exactly how I felt about my mother. You never expect the sky to fall down, the sky is always there and always will be. She had always been a huge part of my life and now that she’s gone I realise that I’d always assumed she would be. She was the most wonderful person I’ve ever known. I’d known her as my mother and as I became an adult I knew her as the woman Jean Conners with a devilish sense of humour and a certain innocence about her. She was a strong, loving mother who I always knew was on my side, would do anything for me and my brother and gave us the perfect upbringing that made us the men we are today. And when I stepped out of line it was her who put me back in step. When I needed advice it was her I sought out. When I was upset she was there to cheer me up. She was always there for me, every memory I’ve ever had growing up has her in it. My mother carried me for 9 months, gave birth to me, was the first sight I ever set my eyes upon, fed me when I was hungry, got no sleep for months when I woke her up crying at night, changed my nappies, watched me smile when I recognised her face, start to crawl, take my first steps, say my first word. I once described losing my mother as like the sky suddenly falling down. It’s true what they say, you can never really understand what it’s like until it happens to you. I thought it was about time I wrote about how losing her has changed the way I see the world, has changed me and what it’s been like trying to get my head around it all. My mother died just over 5 years ago from cancer and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.