I don't normally do this, the whole feelings thing, but it has recently been the anniversary of when I lost my mum. The other day I was trying to hold it all together on my way into work and did what came naturally, I wrote down what was in my head.
I suppose it's what writers do, let everyone see what's in the soul, so against my usual instincts I am simply going to post what helped me get into work.
It's dry, warm even, as I sit with tunes chiming in my ears and stare out the window of the bus, trying not to think. Everyone is lost in their own little worlds and a part of me wants to know what could be running through their heads. I know some days I'm listing what I need from the shops, what I have to sort out with my boys, but then there are other days, days like today and it doesn't matter what I try the sadness creeps through my body, threatens to escape at a moments notice.
A small, heavy but perfectly formed stone has been resting on my chest since the moment I opened my eyes this morning and the knot in my stomach gets tighter with every passing second. With my eyes unfocused, I try and push back the tears even with them demanding my attention. It's not something I can allow, what are all these people going to think? I can't fall to pieces surrounded by strangers, I can't even do that surrounded by friends and family. How could I cope with all the furtive looks in my direction, how pathetic can I get, crying on the bus as people head for work?
Four years, that's how long it's been since I last saw my mum, smiling on her way to her holidays, unfortunately I never saw that smile again and it still drives a knife in my heart that I never had a chance to say goodbye. We weren't the closest mother and daughter team, no weekend shopping trips, no real heart to heart's but there was love, unspoken at times, but we both knew it was there and I knew I could always rely on her whenever I needed a shoulder. She had a wonderful smile, which she threw around with ease and was a true artist when it came to the guilt trip, something I may have learnt to use with my own kids.
You never do really appreciate your parents when they are there for you, or is that just me, but I still talk to her, still see her shaking her head at some of the decisions I make and I'm thankful for the time she got with me and the boys.