It’s your birthday tomorrow. I’m thinking of you. A lot.
I thought to myself earlier, what would we be doing? What would we do on your birthday?
I’ve always been a bit of a birthday person. Tried to have fun on mine surrounding myself with those I love in places I love. Making people feel special on theirs. It’s a day a year I enjoy declaring extra love for the people in my life since I’m already fairly vocal about my feelings!
I know, I know. Every day we can do that. Yet these days are commercialised for us to (sometimes feel the need to) celebrate more.
So your birthday. I’ll never forget one year I was so angry at myself for not making it to the crematorium to ‘see you’. I hurt so much. Felt guilty, like a bad daughter. Yet if your ashes were scatted in foreign land there wouldn’t be that expectation and actually, I should be able to ‘see you’ anywhere I want. Rather than feel it’s a duty.
This birthday and many of yours, usually I’m lucky that I’ll be with big bro. I’ll work half the day then we’ll go to an old family favourite restaurant, conveniently located near the crematorium, and we’ll likely visit you or go for a walk in the nearby park. I don’t think it’s set to rain.
What would we do if you were here though? What would I do? It’s sad as I’d have looked forward to treating you. I’m at an age and stage now I’d have my own money to properly make you feel special. Special and loved. Oh special and loved. If only. If only you knew. If only you knew. Perhaps you did know. Who knows? Not me. I’ll never know. We’ll never know. Those left behind with a permanent lack of closure. I write and I release pain.
Mum, I miss saying ‘mum’. My mum. How is she dead? Ouch. When I was so young and vulnerable. Double ouch.
Anyway, let’s go back to what I might do. Might we have gone for a day trip somewhere for afternoon tea? A hotel stay? Mother and daughter. How cute would have that been? I’d probably have hashtagged our trip with cutesy words about our bond. I actually often really like seeing other pics of mothers and daughters a lot of the time. It’s what we could have been. What I want for me and my daughter. To my future daughter. Your grand daughter.
Oh mum. This is just a quick blog for now. To help me through the working day around lunch time. To release some pressure on my heart I feel. Some emptiness in my stomach.
Maybe I’ll write to you tomorrow. Each day is a new one.
I’ll love you forever and I miss you so deeply.
Your doting daughter. Send hugs through rays of sunshine.