Four years since you’ve been gone…

I can’t believe it. Today marks four years since I got that dreaded phone call. Four years since I heard those words that no child wants to hear and four years since I was told that you had died. 

You never really think of losing a parent when your a child and even though there was a time when things were hard, and we drifted apart…but we made it back into each other’s lives and in those final few years I could not be more thankful for that time with you. We laughed, we cried, we cried as we laughed! We hung out and had so many hours cackling over the phone – that those really are my most treasured memories of you. 

If I’m honest, I’m still in a phase of disbelief that you’re gone. I still don’t quite believe it and if I’m completely honest, I don’t think I ever will. I never saw you go – I couldn’t get a soon enough flight to be with you in your final hours and as tragic as it is – boarded a flight 17hrs after you died. I remember being picked up from the airport and driven back to your house – passing the place where your body was being held was the oddest experience. Seeing your dressing gown and slippers were you left them and not seeing you there potter around was just….weird and wrong. 

I remember curling up on your favourite chair, wrapped in your dressing gown and feeling confused, lost and heartbroken. It wasn’t right not having you there. It wasn’t right that you had died. I mean, you died! You were just 54. 

I missed out on having you in my life for so long that I didn’t have enough time with you before you left. It breaks my heart on Mothers day, it breaks my heart hearing other people talk about their Mums and I am forever telling them to treasure every single god damn moment with them because you never know what curve-ball life is going to throw at you. 

I am a Mother without a Mother and my god, that is hard. It’s so hard. I still haven’t reconnected my house phone since the day you died. You were the only one to ever call me on it, and I really don’t know what I would do if it rung and you weren’t on the other end. So I decided to keep it unplugged. Deleting your mobile number from my phone was weird and only really happened recently. I still get reminders off your birthday via Moonpig – and every year I get that email it knocks the wind out of me. I haven’t brought myself to remove you from that yet. Unsure if I ever will. 

So today is the day we now put up our Christmas tree as a family – its a day for us to share together and we talk about you – their Granny Johnstone – they’ll ask questions, and we’ll look at photos. The littlest one, Annabelle {sadly the Grandaughter you never got to meet} tells me all the time that you visit her in her dreams and that you shine so bright up among the stars. On our tree we’ll place the dove decoration I bought when I was over in Spain laying you to rest, a pride of place in the centre. The heart of our tree and a part that I miss so painfully and incredibly dearly. 

Today is the 4th anniversary of your death. The pain of you leaving is still as painful now as it was the night I heard those words. But you are in my thoughts every single day and I love you so, so much. Tonight my ‘Mum’ candle will be lit and I will raise a glass to you. 

Shine bright among the stars, Mum.

We love you. 

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3 Comments

  1. 04/12/2017 / 6:34 AM

    Such a beautiful post and I am so sorry for your loss.

  2. 04/12/2017 / 10:22 AM

    Beautifully written.
    Sending love and hugs. Thinking of you x

  3. 05/12/2017 / 1:20 PM

    Beautiful lovely. Sending you lot of love and hugs. So, sorry xx

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