Dear Mummy

Dear Mummy, 

It has been a little over a month since your passing.

I feel as if I still haven't had a chance to properly mourn you though. Over here, I'd be occupied with Joshua and whatnot. When I came back, I felt like I had to be the strong one so I never let myself get a good cry apart from that time at the hotel during quarantine. There were so many times where the tears threatened to escape, and it almost felt like a gargantuan task just to keep them from falling; otherwise I think I wouldn't have been able to stop for a good while.

Whenever I even fathomed the thought about you leaving us, it was always due to old age. ALWAYS. Whenever I saw friends or people of similar age as me post on Facebook about the obituary of their parents, I'd feel sorry for them, yet I would be incredibly thankful and count my lucky stars that I'm one of the few that still have my parents together and alive. 

I'd never, not in a million years, think that this was how you'd leave us.

And so soon.

Dear Mummy,

At those few days during your wake, and to everyone else who sent their condolences to me, I'd always comfort anyone crying by saying that I was just glad that you're free and no longer suffering.

Of course, that's true... in part.

Honestly?

I'm angry at the fact that you're gone. Not at you, of course. I'm angry that it had to end like this. I'm angry that you had to suffer as much as you did. I'm angry that you even had cancer in the first place, just as you recovered from your operation and were starting to enjoy life again. I'm envious of everyone older than you that are still living. Nothing against them of course, but I just can't help feeling jealous. Why are they able to live to such an age while you couldn't?! Why is it that God, if he even exists, take away all the people that are so loved by so many, so soon, instead of just taking away all the evil and bad people on earth instead??

Dear Mummy,

I don't mean to sound bitter. I just miss you so damn much. I have caught myself so many times since your departure reaching for my phone to text you the minute I have any gossip/funny things to tell you, before realising... OH.

I hate that you never got to meet Joshua in person, when he was just mere kilometers away from you. You were so sure that you'd 'see him when we came back in June'.

Lika told me today that she dreamt about you; that you were free and happy- really happy, and I'm glad. Could you please affirm that to me somehow?

Dear Mummy,

I think I'm still in a bit of denial that you're gone. We've always been very loving, and I've always lived for your touch and hugs. Remember how I always said that you had a magic touch that would make me feel better whenever I'm sick? Joshua is a good alternative currently, but I don't think I can come to terms with never having your 'magic touch' to make me feel better again.

Yes, I know that I'm a damn 34 year old woman this year but I'll be damned if I still don't need my mummy. I told you that come what may, I'll always need my mummy. And I still do... even if you're no longer here. What should I do now?

Dear Mummy,

As you know, I'm extremely lucky to have such great in-laws. I have a motherly figure to turn to if I need to. As much as I'm immensely grateful for that, I mean no disrespect at all when I say that she's not you. 

In my journey as a mother so far, I've turned to you for guidance and your opinion on how to handle things. I trust your answers because hey, you raised great kids. Yes, there are other sources I could go to if I need advice. But nothing is like advice coming from your own mother, whom you respect and love. Who can I turn to now?

Dear Mummy,

There were so many things that you had yet to do. You were supposed to come here to Scotland and experience the weather. I was supposed to bring you to the milk aisle of the supermarkets so you can ogle and choose which milk you wanted. You were supposed to have a great bond with Joshua - your father's namesake, and spoil him like you said you would. You've always wanted to see us get married, and you have. You've always wanted grandkids, and now you have; but you've never seen him in person or had the chance to hold and hug him. I know beggars can't be choosers, but it's not the same just seeing him in videos/video calls.

Dear mummy,

I miss you.