To Mum

Mum, you died on this date many years ago. I was only 20 and had been away at university instead of spending what I didn't realise was to be your last year with you. I was a typical self-obsessed teenager and was more interested in my own petty concerns than what was happening to you. I realise now that you knew but spared us that knowledge.

I wasn't always that obnoxious, as you know. I used to love to draw you pictures and buy you little gifts. You didn't wear much jewellery but loved pearls and brooches. When I was about 11 I saved up my pocket money and with Dad's help bought you these synthetic pearls for your birthday. You kept the label I wrote in the box with them, in my childish writing, just as I now keep little notes and gift tags from my own children. You never got a chance to meet my future family but I know they would have loved you, as I still do.

I used to wish I had been able to ask you more about your life when you were younger, your hopes and dreams. I never got to know you as an adult human being, just a mum. So many questions I could have asked, but now that I am older than you were when you left us, and a mother myself, I think I have discovered the answers that matter.

Sleep in peace, gentle lady.