Today is a day I’ve been dreading since the day you died; it’s Mothers Day on the anniversary of goodbye.
It’s been 7 years. 7 years of experience without you. 7 years of muddling my way through recipes that only live in my memory. I still can’t get chilli right…though I did work out the cocoa trick! It’s been 7 years of missing your voice in my ear. 7 years of stories to tell, songs to share, pictures to laugh about and arguments to get over (slowly). In fact, I’d give anything to have a fight with you today.
That’s 84 months…lots has happened. I’m not sure how much you know – if any – where you are but to summarise …(I can hear you laugh at that, ‘Kori, you don’t ever say a thing the short way’)…
*we didn’t realise it right off but when Em & I came back to Canada to be with you and say goodbye Em was starting the regression stage of Rett syndrome. She stopped speaking the day you died, we never heard her say ‘pretty’ again. It took a year to get the diagnosis, and that was a year I sure did need you. I started to type – I hope that was the hardest thing I’ll ever go through – but we both know that’s not going to be the hardest thing, so I stopped myself.
*we bought a new house, you would love it!! It’s very English. It’s got enough land around it for the kids and the dogs to have a measure of freedom – Darren has filled the barns with more JCB’s than they can hold…we’re happy here.
*Ryan & Grace have both moved out – (pausing here to apologise for the speed I flew with and the callous way I never considered for even one minute how awful that would have been for you, I left the country for heaven’s sake…I am SO sorry mom!!) – Ryan is in Scarborough, and Grace is in Sheffield…our house is very much quieter, and cleaner without them. I miss the noise, and mess.
*Cam is so tall! You wouldn’t believe it. Dad came to visit in February and we made a video of Cammy in Emlyn’s bathing suit, it was hilarious and we were all together making it, Darren, Ryan, Grace, Cam, Emmy, me & Dad…I felt you there, I hope you were.
7 years is 365 weeks, and little things make me think of you during every one of them…
When I drink my coffee black | if I do a crossword | every country song | cold beer | backgammon | looking in a mirror | back-combed hair | lighthouses | fiberoptic lamps | Hearts & Souls | Sound of Music | Alan Jackson | Paloma Piccasso | the scent of Dior’s Opium | every single elephant | my children | your mother | and countless millions of unnamed things.
2556 days have passed and not one has gone by when I’ve not missed you Mom. I hope you’re beautiful, and laughing, and dancing in Heaven. But I hope you get to be here sometimes too. I’ve felt you, so I’m pretty sure your around. There’ve been these odd things that give me pause…
*the way you took your very last breath 30 minutes before midnight, meaning you died on the 11th instead of the 12th (my wedding anniversary).
*the sound of your voice saying ‘move, move move’ in three right before the car tire blew up as I was filling it with air. If I hadn’t responded to the authority of your voice and shifted quick, well, Darren says we would be having this conversation in person.
*Chinese takeaway restaurant, the magazine I didn’t want to read, your voice in my head telling me to read it – over and over – and finding the doll you said you wanted to buy Emmy but didn’t get a chance to. I bought it.
*Walk like a Man from the radio on diagnosis day
2556 days where I feel your ghost graciously guiding. So I hope you’re spending 98% of your time in heaven – especially since Grampa got there, that must be so great for you – but I also hope you’re spending some of your time here or else I am really cracking up.
‘Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.’
I love you. Happy Mothers Day.