Mother's Day Without Mum

Today is the seventh mother’s day I’ll be spending without my mum. For me, it’s arguably the worst day of the year. Days like the anniversary and her birthday are difficult but they’re private. Nobody outside of my family takes notice or even knows. I can usually be a bit sad, grieve in private, and get on with my day.

Mother’s Day on the other hand is a massive kick in the gut. And it’s not like it’s just one day either. As soon as Valentine’s Day ends, shops change overnight to their mother’s day stock. Every year I am caught off guard, and there have been several years I’ve come home crying because it’s everywhere. A constant reminder of what I don’t have. ‘Treat your mum this mother’s day!’ about 10 different shops have in their window within 100 metres. Except I can’t.

Some years I struggle fairly overtly. I’ll cry a lot, I’ll actively avoid any and all conversations about the topic. I’ll pretend it doesn’t happen and stay off social media a lot around the day, because seeing everyone’s Instagram and Facebook posts is just too damn hard. This year hasn’t been so bad – I think it’s partly because I no longer have to go through a shopping centre every day and so I just haven’t had the opportunity to be bombarded as much. Living in halls at University, I don’t have a TV and so I don’t have to watch advert after advert going on about it. But it’s affected me nonetheless.

I was doing fairly well with my anxiety, it had been months since I’d had a major panic attack. And then about three weeks ago I had a terrifying panic attack, and since I’ve been far more anxious than I normally am. Last week I was sick, which was partially due to the stress of imminent deadlines and living in a building with 60 other people, but I also think it was partially due to being stressed about Mother’s Day.

I know I’m very lucky to still have many maternal figures in my life. My stepmum is great most of the time – she’s friendly and looks out for me without trying to be my mum. And I still have both of my grandmothers, although my relationship with my maternal grandmother has always been slightly stilted.

I’m not sure how this Mother’s Day will be for me. I was luckily able to visit Mum’s grave on Friday and lay some flowers there with my brother and dad which made me feel a lot better, getting to spend a little time with her in my own way. The main thing I’ve learned to try and do is just let myself feel my emotions and not bury them – that’s not helpful at all. And maybe staying off Facebook and Instagram for the sake of my mental health.

Mother’s Day is always tricky, but I’m hoping that it will be okay. And I hope that whether your mum is still with you or not that you have a lovely day wherever you are.

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Milestones without My Mum

I think it goes without saying that every day when you lose a parent at a young age is difficult. I’m 100% being truthful when I say that my mum pops into my mind every single day, even 5 years after her death. But there is something especially bittersweet about her absence when I’m about to hit a milestone.

My mum died of cancer when I was 15 years old, and she was my best friend. She came to all of my school concerts and plays, all of my riding lessons and shows as a child, every single parents evening and I know I was so lucky to have had a parent who could and would do that. Losing her at the age of 15 means that most of what people consider significant life events or milestones, I have experienced without her. My GCSE Results, my A Level results, my first kiss, my first time moving away from home, my 16th and 18th birthdays have all happened without her. And it’s not just these big events where I feel her absence; I remember wishing she could come and see my GCSE Drama production, or to see me off at the airport when I went to the USA for three months. Every birthday and Christmas is somehow tainted with her absence. And don’t even get me started on mother’s day.

For the first few years there was an extra factor into all of this; jealousy. It’s an ugly thing to think and I’m not proud of it but I couldn’t help but feel on my 16th birthday, or when I got my A level results that my brother got to do this with Mum. He’s three and a half years older than me and was in his first year of University when she passed away. She wanted to go up and help him move in, but she couldn’t due to being knee deep in chemo.

I remember opening my results for my GCSE’s quite vividly; I went alone because I didn’t want my dad to be there and he had work anyway. I went in, hands shaking and tore through the envelope. After a look through, I was pretty pleased with my grades and called Dad to tell him how he did. He was elated and very proud. After I hung up the phone, I almost went to make another call. But then I realised I couldn’t. I looked around the hall for my two best friends, who were both standing with their own mums a little way off. It felt like I’d been punched in the gut and I wanted to burst into tears. It felt so unfair that everyone else got to tell their mum’s how they did and I didn’t. I quickly composed myself though and got on with my day – I didn’t want to cry when I’d actually gotten pretty good results. I know that had she been alive I probably would’ve told her to stay at home as well, but it was the option to do so that I wanted. God, what I would’ve given to have been able to do that.

I found moving out to University for the first time particularly difficult. I remember having a dream the week before I was due to go. My mum and I were driving down a road, and then she was helping me unpack things in my room, and then we went to a café. I don’t remember the specifics but I remember feeling warm and happy. And then I woke up, and for a few blissful moments I thought it was true and would happen. And then reality crashed into me, that that was never going to happen. Moving in was okay in the end, but I was moving boxes and walking around my new campus feeling hollow and off the entire time. There were a few confused looks when I introduced my Dad and my Stepmum and I knew what they were thinking. What about her mother? Where is she? But most people didn’t ask. Apart from my flatmate later on that day, who I know got an answer she wasn’t entirely expecting. Not the best way to start off a relationship.

As I’m writing this, it is the night before I move into University for the second time. And I can truthfully say that I am in a much better place this time. A mixture of therapy and taking time to grieve and come to terms what happened means I am more accepting this time around of my situation. Maybe it’s because I’ve done it before and it’s not as ‘significant’ but I think it’s a good sign anyway. My 21st is later this year and I’m apprehensive as I always am for big birthdays because I just have no idea what I’ll feel like on the day. But I know in my heart that either reaction is totally okay. I do think about the future; how if I ever get married she won’t be there, if I ever have kids she won’t get to meet the grandchildren I know she so sorely wanted to meet. But I’m starting to accept this reality more than be angry about it – and I know that wherever she is, she’s watching, and she’s proud.

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When Your Mum Becomes Your Friend

Today, I want to talk about my mum and my relationship with her. As a child and teenager, both my parents were pretty strict. My brother and I had rules and boundaries, and neither of my parents would take any crap from us. No-one likes their parents really laying in to them, right? So we were pretty well behaved children (apart from the odd fight between ourselves). Which led to us getting on pretty well with our parents as youngsters. And like mums are, Mum was always there; when we'd fallen over and hurt ourselves, when we needed help with our homework, and when we just needed someone to talk to.

I don't know at what age my relationship with Mum changed, but it did. Sometime in my late teens, I'd guess, Mum stopped being simply My Parent and became my friend. That might sound kind of corny, but it's important to me, and something I'm so grateful for. There are a lot of people out there who don't have great relationships with their parents, and I'm just so glad that I do.

Mum is my mother, and I am her daughter, but we have the kind of personalities that just work well together. Mum had me a month before her 19th birthday, so there isn't a huge age gap, and although in some ways we're pretty different, in others we are pretty similar. We both make the effort to find time for each other, and will have days out, whether it's going to the cinema, going shopping, or going out for a meal. Other times, we'll plan nights in. We'll get a take away, buy some goodies, and watch a movie. It's not just so we can have some mother/daughter time, but because we genuinely enjoy each others company.

There's the added bonus that because we're mother and daughter we can trust each other to be honest when asking the other for advice or their opinion, when it comes to something small like outfit choices, or for help making a tough decision (though, to be honest, that is more me asking than Mum). I love how I can talk to my mum about anything, not just as my mother, but also as my friend. Depending on the subject, sometimes she'll be in full-on mother mode if she's worrying about me - after all, I am her baby - but she will also talk to me as a fellow woman. We'll have deep discussions about topics we feel are important, and sometimes we'll disagree, and sometimes we'll educate each other. Sometimes Mum will give me the perspective of someone with more experience, and sometimes I'll give that of someone a little younger, for a generation where things are changing when, for example, it comes to society's attitudes about women.

As you can tell, I've always been pretty close to my mum, but I have appreciated our relationship more since my nan died. Mum was close to Nan, and Nan's death, though expected, broke her heart. She no longer has her mum, which makes me even more grateful that I have mine and that our relationship is so wonderful, yet so sad that she no longer has that mother-friend in her life. It's made me think about the inevitable moment when I will lose my mum, and how absolutely devastating it will be. But then I remember I still have her, and fully revel in the time we spend together.

I don't think there's anything quite like a mother-daughter relationship, but that relationship becomes even more special when you can call your mother your friend.



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