A couple of heavy hits this week. We got through Mother’s Day with a nod of the head to the skies and were quickly followed by Gill’s birthday today.
I’m absolutely fine with all of this. We’re in a different place now. I know Gill’s not coming back, yet I know she is still all around.
That’s actually a bigger picture conundrum for another day; how to move forward while letting go of the past. Still working that one out, but as this blog notes, we “keep moving forward”.
No, this week I’ve found those closest to Conor and I probably tip-toeing around the Mother’s Day thing more than other days. That’s fine, I just wish I had the words to say, “It’s fine, you’re a mum too, you’re supposed to celebrate days like this.”
Shite, that’s actually what I should have been saying. Easy.
Yes, hug those wee ones like you’ve never hugged them before. They poured their heart and souls into making that oversized card for you. And god bless daddy, he was surely fannying about the flower shop making sure he got it right.
Conor is still too young to put it all together and I’m just grateful for the time we got. Bloody hell though, all we ever look for now is more time, nothing else matters, that much I do know. Carpe Diem.
The one thing that did threaten to tip me over the edge was the truly thoughtful and apt Mother’s Day detail the girls at Conor’s nursery worked up.
I’m going to call them out here and I hope they are ok with that for they are a credit to Chatterbox and to themselves. Firstly, they quietly asked me days ago if it was ok to help Conor make a Mother’s Day card etc rather than a card for nana or myself. “Of course, treat Conor like all the other kids, let him celebrate and show his love for his ‘mummy’,” I said.
Gill would have been proud.
Helena, Courtney, Kelsa and all the team you were amazing. Thank you.
The words on the card went something like this:
“Those we love don’t go away,
They walk beside us every day…
but always near,
and very dear”
Love you always mum,
Now, if that doesn’t test the waterworks then you’re harder than Mourne Granite.
And so to today, Gill would have been 45 and on birthdays gone by I would have prised her away – with great difficulty – from her work. We would probably have put on the walking boots and worked up an appetite and most certainly a thirst for the greedy Irish half of the operation.
This week I have a mountain of work to get through, but today I may just let it all wait while Paddy and I head for the hills one more time.
Happy heavenly birthday G. x