A letter to her.
Six months on, with Mother's Day and World Ovarian Cancer Day all landing in the same week.
Dear Mum,
Monday marked six months since we lost you. Today is also World Ovarian Cancer Day and Sunday, well, Sunday is Mother’s Day.
I’d hoped that perhaps I would be able to make it through this week unscathed, but in hindsight, I think that was simply wishful thinking. The marketing around Mother’s Day has been omnipresent, and I’ve found myself walking around wondering who else is in the ‘dead mums club’. Trouble is, unlike wounds you can see from the outside, this one has a way of staying hidden.
You consume my every thought and yet so often, I wake up and forget that you’re gone. Before the consciousness comes flooding back into my body, there is a moment when I get to be the person I once was. But every time it’s like a sucker-punch and every time it leaves me reeling.
By some strange twist of fate, this week I also had an article commissioned which saw me writing about the tragic reality of ovarian cancer in order to help raise awareness for a cause that’s been so close to our hearts for so long. And while difficult, it felt deeply important to share your story and somewhat serendipitous that I’ve been called to sit with it again.
I know that there are so many wonderful things to be grateful for, and at times I can see how far we’ve all come. But the sky looks different now. The way I move through the world feels different now, every cell in my body shifting to make room for the wound that I know will likely never go away. I don’t say it very often, but I’m angry that you were the one who was taken away.
My heart is hurting and while I hope that our energies will find each other once again, I know it’s not today, and not tomorrow.
Until then, I’ll keep turning my face to the sun. I’ll keep saying hello to the butterflies, and I’ll keep squeezing the hands I have within my reach.
All my love.
So much love to you. Xx