What my Mum did for me

It’s been 6 months now. Six months without my Mum. The grieving is much the same as before. Certain moments and memories will trigger a sniffle but mainly it’s all about getting on with life. These last few months though, I have really missed my Mum. You don’t really realise, until they go, what it is they do for you. So 6 months later, I want to remember all the things my Mum did for me.

She kicked me up the arse. I could barely utter a gripe about life before she was off on a rant about how difficult HER life was and how I shouldn’t moan. It was brutal at the time, but now, when I get into a little whingey shit spiral, I could do with one of her Downer Pep Talks (trademark).

She hated the boys that screwed me over. Mum was the BEST at boy advice. There were no holds barred. The minute I said anything negative about someone I was seeing she was straight in there with the advice, ‘if he’s not the one, jog him on now and don’t waste your time.’ She was the only person I’d listen to about blokes.

She championed everything. The first time I told my Mum about getting a sponsored post, she was so excited. She called me weekly to find out if I’d been sent anything or invited to any events. She told all of her friends and family about my blog and was my biggest fan. These last 6 months have been amazing for my blog, I just wish she was here to show her it.

She supported every decision. If I ever wanted to quit a job or buy something outlandish, she’d be all over it. She totally instilled in me, how life is for living and to never settle for anything that didn’t make me happy.

She would cook my favourite foods. When we found out my ex was cheating on me and I had to go to hers for a breakdown. She let me sob in a room upstairs whilst making me, what she always made me as a kid if I was ill – a chip loaf. Halve a tiny loaf of bread, hollow it out, stuff it with freshly made chips and drown in salt and vinegar. She knew she couldn’t help my predicament but she knew exactly what to do to comfort me.

She was always on the other end of a line. I had a really tough first few years of teaching. Hard classes and hard to please bosses. After a stressful day, she was always reachable to let me rant and rave, to get angry with me and then to put everything into perspective.  Her heart broke alongside mine when I would tell her about the lives of the children in my class. No one has ever empathised with or understood my role as well as her.

She was good company. If I was ever feeling lonely, she’d take me to bingo with her on a Saturday morning and we’d spend the whole day together gossiping and (occasionally) winning. We’d talk about reality TV and bitch about the Kardashians. I could spill my heart out about boys and she’d make jokes.

She’d give me her last penny. I’ve always been shit with money. So had she. But if she ever won at bingo, or did a car boot sale, she’d give me some money or buy me clothes as a treat, even if it meant she’d be left with hardly anything.

These are just some of the things she did for me as an adult, let alone everything she did for me growing up. It’s so hard looking at that list of things only a Mum can do and realising there’s no one that can replace her. It’s so hard knowing I can’t just pick up the phone to her. It’s so hard coming to terms with the fact she’s never going to overcook a roast that, even though the veg was mushy as fuck, it was still so bloody delicious because it was hers.

It’s all so hard and my heart is breaking writing this but if my Mum gave me anything, it was resilience. It was the ability to look at the complete shit state life can be in and to still want to soldier on and not just get by, but slay every day. For that, I will always have her.

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8 Comments

  1. Elizabeth Feguson
    July 5, 2016 / 8:47 am

    This was such a lovely post. You’re so brave. While, for now, knowing that your mum won’t make a mushy roast again and when you really need her she can’t be there is incredibly heartbreaking, every single one of these things will eventually become a reason to smile. Remembering people you’ve lost should be a celebration of who they were as a person. There are never the right words to say to someone who has lost someone to brilliant and so loved. Just know you’re never alone, and as long as you have these memories your darling mum will always be with you.

    I lost my dad when I was 7, and I am now 21. To this day, one thing can happen and I can get choked up. But I know he would be proud of me for just being me.

    Best wishes Vix, lots of love xoxox

  2. July 5, 2016 / 9:21 am

    Ohhhh vix, your mum sounded like she was an absolute gem. Sending lots of love to you today & always. She would be so proud at all you are achieving right now bubs! 🙂

    Heather Xx

  3. Thewonkyjen
    July 5, 2016 / 11:18 am

    Dude, sounds like your mum was a proper gem of a woman.
    This post has given me duplicitous emotions…on the one hand I’m so happy for you because you had such a cool figure in your life. On the other I’m so sad – why can’t the best things in life last? It’s a cruel game the world plays – giving us something beautiful and then snatching it away.

  4. Kirsty
    July 5, 2016 / 6:42 pm

    Mate I know exactly what your going through. It’s been a year without my dad and it doesn’t get easier. It’s still raw. But you’ve got the memories and lessons she taught you which is certainty priceless.

    You are a wonderful lady and such a strong person (although I’ve only spoken to you on Twitter) don’t forget that!

    X

  5. July 7, 2016 / 12:38 pm

    You’re mum sounds like an amazing lady and very similar to my own! Mines been annoying me the last couple of days but this really puts it all into perspective so thank you for that! Sending you big hugs xx

  6. Leanne
    July 13, 2016 / 1:46 pm

    Your mum sounds like a truly incredible woman Vix, I am so sorry for your loss <3 xx

  7. Lauren Aitchison
    July 16, 2016 / 11:00 pm

    What a huge loss, Vicky. I’m so sad for you. (also – chip loaf sounds incredible?!)