Twelve years of missing you, Mum

God, I miss you. Several times a day, I think of things that I would like to tell you about or ask your advice on or just think that I wish you were alive. Even after 12 years it's hard to believe that, in this life, I'll never see you or talk to you again.

The last few weeks have been hard, they usually are, as this day crashes towards me. As I do, I've crawled into my shell for a bit. It shouldn't be so, but I guess it is when I miss you the most maybe because of all those last memories. I've cried a lot and that deep sadness has taken over my heart.

Today has been full of memories of the day you passed away. Being woken up at about 6 am by Ron to tell me that you had 'gone'. You were still warm. I was only sleeping a couple of metres away but I didn't know you were leaving. I think you left then for a reason. You hated people fussing and I think you preferred to be close to us but nobody in your face. I'm not certain, though, so I still feel bad that I just had no idea. I was sleeping on the couch and Ron was on a mattress on the floor behind the couch, he said that he woke up at some stage and we were both snoring in unisom. LOL It was time for you to go, you had had enough of being sick and you were so weak.

It's all so clear now but at the time, I was still hoping so hard that we could get you better. I didn't 'know' you were going to go but if I had looked, the signs were all there on the Sunday. Even though we had all told you it was ok to go if you needed to, I would have kept fighting to get you well. We all would have.

You were my best friend, we had so much fun and many laughs together. You, Dad and I were thick as thieves - it was Dad and my job to make you laugh and we did a pretty good job at it. As you know, you weren't the most understanding person - way too practical and down to earth. But, you had a huge heart and I know you cared deeply.

I don't know if you ever knew how you swelled my heart the day you told me that you were so proud of me because I never let my vision impairment stop me from doing anything. You were driving me to a job interview at Oberon, so I could go and live with John. I was 23. You didn't want me to do what I was doing, but you helped me and you were proud of me. Well, Mum, I hope I am as good a Mum as you because that showed how special you were, among many other instances. You didn't like John one bit and well I should have listened, but you were ok with me doing what I needed to do.

With Ron, you loved him from the start. I reckon you breathed many sighs of relief when you met him. You knew he was perfect for me too. Thank you for welcoming Cathie and Jamie into our family.

I wish Rieley and Kellie had gotten a chance to meet their Oma - oh you would have loved them, just as much as all the other grandchildren. They would have had fun and loved you and Dad too. I point you and Dad out in your picture but I'll wait until they understand a bit more to tell them about their Oma and Opa. I just wish there were some memories for them to go with the picture.

What I miss so much is being able to ring you up and tell you about the kids, I want to brag about little things, like Rieley is doing so well at brushing his teeth by himself now, that Kellie is so cute when she stands at the couch and bounces back and forward from the cushion - she loves it. I have no-one to tell the boring stuff to, the day-to-day trivial things that makes a child's personality their own. No-one to brag about the important things - Kellie got heaps of teeth and Rieley has only wet the bed about 5 times in almost a year of no nappies.

Anyway, I just want my Mummy and I can't have her. My life goes on and generally it's a pretty good one but you and Dad left a great big hole when you each left. One that can never be filled.

I love you Mum.