Today would have been my mum’s 63rd birthday. It will be a strange day because, although Mum and I were never as close as I would have hoped, I still loved her. I will spend some time today reflecting on her life and how both of our lives intertwined. It’s sad to think that both of my parents are gone. Both so young by modern day standards. You would have thought that, having had me so young (Dad 18, Mum 17), that I would have had the luck to have more time with them than the average son. Alas, Dad reached 54 and Mum 62 when they both succumbed to illness. My dad’s was a less-than 6 month ravaging by cancer. My mum’s was a cruelly protracted succession of major health problems, ended by her second bout of cancer.
Life has been weird lately. I find myself reminiscing about all sorts of events and people. Along with those memories, come more darker, unbidden thoughts. Memories of bad times and difficult moments. And regrets too. They say you shouldn’t have regrets. Although I honestly feel I did the right things on a lot of the occasions I have been thinking about (as you would expect), it doesn’t make it any less saddening knowing things went the way they did. Well, today of all days, I can allow myself the feeling of regret.
To my mind there is no glorious afterlife where Mum rambles in beautiful meadows, or looks down upon us from on high. My comfort comes in knowing that she is no longer suffering: she is at peace.