a letter to my mum

I didn’t expect the grief to hit me so far from Mother’s Day, just a day that from afar feels like any other.

But I guess that’s grief isn’t it, all consuming and unexpected.

A little sad one, but a real one all the same. A letter to my mum.

My mum,

There’s so much to say and nothing.

My greatest challenge is trying to justify your impact on Annie and I as a mother, with merely words.

There is no articulation for you.

I construct sentences to try and share how deeply privileged I am to be your daughter, and it barely hits the edges of the depths of the love.

The love we shared, and the love that’s grief. We have nowhere to put it, all the love for you that we still have here.

There’s so much I want to say, so much I want to thank you for.

So many tiny, perfect moments I didn’t understand the weight of.

But

Words escape me this time.
Mum is a feeling.

One only we understand.

A silent love. A telepathic kind of intuition.

Mum is unconditional sacrifice.

And we won’t stop celebrating you, but today I’ll grieve the celebration you should have been here to receive. For everything and all of it, over and over again, that you do in the joy and reality of being our mum.

Love Always,
Bub