On Monday 6th April 2015, it had been a whole decade since my mum died from cancer.
It’s been ten years without my mum. Ten years of hurting, growing, learning and memories created without her.
Ten years of tears on Christmas, her birthday, Mother’s Day and the anniversary of her death.
Ten years of trauma in my family caused by hearts broken when she died. Ten years of us trying to get our family heartbeat to beat a rhythm without her. We’re getting there.
She has been dead ten years, but she became a grandparent almost 6 years ago. She has nine grandchildren who grow up knowing their nanny is with the angels, and my own nanny gives them the love they’d have if my mum was here.
Ten years of me being brutally forced into adulthood and independence, of figuring life out for myself because I don’t have the luxury of having her help me do it.
Ten years of slowly understanding what she faced, the impacts of her own struggles and the decisions she made. I can’t ask her why now but I think I understand.
Ten years of learning to stop being angry at her for leaving us, and when I became a mother I truly understood her love for us and how much pain she would have been in knowing she was going to leave us.
It’s ten years that she died and the memories still feel fresh. When we stayed overnight at the hospice with her because she became worse, we woke up but she didn’t. She was in a deep sleep. When she took her last breath, my sister begged her to wake up but she didn’t. She didn’t wake up.
I’m a strong and independent woman but, believe me, I learned from the best.
To my mum, Sarah, we love you and we miss you. This is the internet and you won’t see this, but I believe you’ll feel my energy as I type this and maybe I’ll feel yours around me.