The last few days have been both physically and emotionally difficult. As much as I have my boys, and I would crawl over broken glass to give them what they need to be happy, I have to fight many demons to be able to do it.
My mum died 26 years ago. I was 16 years old. The pain has never gone away, but it has become easier to bear. There are three times when I really have to fight not to cry though. They are her birthday, christmas and when I am ill. So this christmas there have been two out of three. There have been a couple of nights where I have fought to hold it together in front of the boys, then once they are asleep, let rip with quiet tears. I miss her so much.
My pain has been at almost uncontrollable levels. Moving even short distances has been so damned difficult. My knee popped out but thankfully went back in on its own. No way I’m going to A&E on christmas eve! All I wanted was a cuddle from my mum.
Yet I did it. I gave my boys a wonderful day. They understand why I can’t wrap presents neatly. They don’t care. Their gifts are shredded so quickly, I don’t think it really matters! My friend came and cooked Christmas lunch (I can’t use the oven) and ate with us. It was wonderful.
Sure, I didn’t have butt loads of presents. We didn’t go out anywhere. But what I have is the image of my boy’s smiles imprinted in my heart. That is the best gift of all!