Dear Mum…

After my mum gave us the devastating news about her prognosis I wanted to say so much to her but I was so emotional I knew I would never be able to get all the words out. So I decided to put what I wanted to say in a card. I originally typed it out then copied it over to a card. I wasn’t sure if I would still have the original ‘Word’ document but I have always been rather fastidious with my organisation of computer files – photos, music, documents – and, not only are they very well organised on an external hard drive, I’m also a massive hoarder. Did you know that ‘hoarder disorder’ is an actual thing? Well it is!

NHS Definition:

“A hoarding disorder is where someone acquires an excessive number of items and stores them in a chaotic manner, usually resulting in unmanageable amounts of clutter. The items can be of little or no monetary value.”

[www.nhs.uk]

Fortunately that definition rules me out as my middle name is ‘organised’ and, in my humble opinion, my ‘clutter’ is completely manageable!

Consequently, I did still have a copy so I am able to share this with you. I realise this a very personal message but it really sums up the anguish and heartbreak I felt then and still do.

“Dear Mum,

The cards I’ve bought you in the past to let you know we’re all thinking of you have lovely words but this time I want to tell you in my own words how I feel. I hope you understand that it’s hard for me to tell you in person.

Mum, I’m truly devastated and heartbroken that we are going to lose you so soon. You are the most beautiful, strongest, bravest, kindest person I’ll ever know, the most wonderful Mum and Nan and, most importantly of all, the best friend I’ve ever had and always will be. You have been so amazing through your illness, never complaining or letting it stop you from enjoying life as much as you can. Your bravery has been remarkable and everyone I know is in awe of your courage and strength. I know you have had an amazing life and none of us would want to change any of it but that’s down to you. Life is what you make it and you have always made it fun, loving and extraordinary. It still doesn’t make it fair that you have had to endure so much and we are all being robbed of the most important andspecial person in our lives.

I know it’s hard for you to contemplate this but we are going to have to tell the children very soon. I know it will shatter their little worlds, as it has ours, but they deserve to know what’s going on and they will want to let you know how much they love you too.

I’m writing this because I was really worried that you would think I’m not upset. It’s getting harder and harder to put on my ‘brave face’ and at the moment all my thoughts are entirely selfish. All I can think about is that it’s not fair that I’m going to lose my mum. The truth is I’m in pieces and my heart is breaking. I can’t believe this is happening but I don’t want it to be about me. It’s about you and we all care so much about you and want to be there for you.

I know you must be very scared and I’ve got a really big favour to ask you. Please don’t think that it will be too upsetting to tell me how you’re feeling. I know it will be hard for you to talk to Dad sometimes because you’ll be worried about him but none of us want you to do this alone. We can only imagine how frightened and sad you must be and we would hate for you to feel you can’t tell us. Please please please talk to me when you need to, whatever it is. It will help us all to deal with it too if you share your worries and fears with us. If you couldn’t talk me, then what kind of daughter and best friend would that make me? I want to be there for you whatever Mum.

I know you worry about all of us but we will be okay. You have taught us so well the value of family and nothing will change that. We will all look after Dad and make sure he is always okay but Mum you know that we will look after each other.

Nothing will ever be the same but, because we know it’s what you would want, in time we will all do our very best to continue making sure that we embrace and enjoy life in the way that you have. It’s a legacy that you should be immensely proud of. Nothing will be able to replace the void of not having you here but I promise you I will be the best mum, daughter and sister I can be and hopefully one day a wonderful and precious Nan for my own family as you have been for us. If I can be even half the person you are I will know I have done you proud. You haven’t made it easy for me though Mum, you’re a hard act to follow. You’re a true inspiration and have touched the hearts of more people than you may ever know.

I love you so much.”

There are two things I want to say about the words in my card. Firstly mum sent me a text. In true character she remained composed and said that she was lucky to have had 64 wonderful years and wasn’t feeling afraid. I truly believe she was resigned to her fate and maybe in some way welcomed the final peace that awaited her. I can only imagine life had exhausted her and her true spirit. She said the only thing she was worried about was me. She said she knew my dad and everyone else would be okay as I would make sure of that. However, knew I’d be okay because she was the one who had taught me how to be tenacious and strong.

I should also mention the children. Mum was adamant throughout her illness that we shouldn’t tell them. She didn’t want them to treat her any differently or worry about her. They absolutely proved how children are so much more resilient than we often give them credit for and they didn’t once question the obvious changes in her appearance. They knew Nanny ‘wasn’t well’ and that seemed to be enough for them to make allowances for her seeming a bit different to usual. Even the changes to her face did not cause them to treat her any differently. They still snuggled up with her and gave her kisses. Also I realised that she didn’t need them to tell her they loved her, she could never have been in any doubt about that.

I completely understood why mum wanted it this way but I also struggled with keeping the truth from them. When we had the ultimate prognosis I felt they should know. However, we genuinely thought we had at least a more few months but everything escalated so fast that I literally didn’t get the chance to sit them down and break it to them gently. I didn’t consciously put it off but I was so busy concentrating on helping my dad, while still holding down a job, that it simply didn’t happen.

To this day I feel guilty for not preparing them. I feel like I neglected them and it still really upsets me. I think I will always regret it. I know I respected my mum’s wishes and I can definitely see that was essentially the right thing to do. It meant that the children’s blissful ignorance allowed them to enjoy their time with their beloved Nan without a care and their innocence was preserved. But they were in for a huge shock and that is something that will live with me forever.

I know this because, despite knowing exactly what was going to happen and having lived with the dread for so long, the shock of it actually happening was still completely overwhelming.