My name is Bridget and I am 29 years old, I am currently studying for my second Masters degree. I got involved with Cruse when I was 15 after my Mum passed away from cancer. She was ill for two years and unfortunately lost her battle in June 2007. Nearly 16 years later and I am still on my grief journey although the path I walk has changed a lot over time. This is more a letter to myself than a letter to my Mum but I hope that it says something to each of you too.
Last year Superdrug sent me an email asking me if I wanted to opt out of Mother’s Day promotions. I remember the feeling I got when I saw the email. No one had ever asked me that before, I had never been given the option to opt out of events like that. I decided to opt out and this year they asked me again. Although this spares me from the stream of emails regarding Mother’s Day gift ideas it still comes from other avenues. You can’t opt out of social media or TV ads, other people’s posts or the adverts that pop up on bus stops and billboards this time of year.
Although it’s been years since those things have bothered me it was still nice to be given a choice in one aspect of my life. It’s been nearly 14 years since my Mum passed and as much as people don’t realise I still think about her every day. I don’t really believe in the stages of grief. I think, rather you experience grief differently in each stage of your life. As I lost my Mum at 15 I had an initial stage infused with teenage hormones and mood swings, school drama and exams. Later I went off to uni and lived away from home and I felt her absence then in a different way. I continued on my path in life and in grief when I traveled and longed to tell her about my adventures and the things I had seen. I completed a Masters degree and looked out into the crowd at graduation and wished more than anything to see her face. I moved to New York and got a coveted internship at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, my Dad came to visit and I beamed with pride as I gave him a tour of the galleries and I had a quiet cry to myself wishing Mum could be there with us too. I moved home and fell in love with a wonderful man and if I could have one wish it would be for them to meet. Through every stage of my life my grief has been there but that is not a sign of weakness and it is not a sign that I have not “moved on”. It’s a sign that I loved my Mum and I know that she would be proud of me and would be so happy to see me happy, to see me graduate, to see me travel, to see my pursue my dreams and take chances, to see me happy with a good partner. Every Mother’s Day that passes is another year since I was able to buy her flowers or write her a card telling her how much she means to me. But at the end of the day I am half my Mum, I have her habits and her sense of humour, even her quick temper and a good bit of her stubbornness. The best Mother’s Day gift I could give my Mum is living my life boldly, beautifully and proud to be her daughter.
I will take time this Mother’s Day to grieve quietly in my own way, I’ll maybe take a walk in Belvior Park where she used to take us as kids, I’ll buy some flowers to brighten up my home and I’ll quietly thank her for giving me this rather wonderful life I lead. I will feel a pang of loss that she’s not here today but I can still celebrate her and her life on Mother’s Day.
