A Letter to my Mum
I glance over at my phone to see two missed calls and a message from my Mum’s partner. “Ring me when you get a chance please”.
Instantly my stomach turns as a wave of anxiety and apprehension washes over me.
I know something is wrong. Why the urgency of two missed calls and a text within the space of a minute? Blunt, to the point, absent of context. I speak to him relatively often but it’s always mum who would ring first and then pass the phone over. Maybe I’m overthinking this but something doesn’t feel right.
I hit redial without another thought as my heart begins to pound in my chest.
“Hi mate, I just saw your message, everything ok?”, I ask, already knowing to some extent the tone of the response that is about to follow.
“Err, not really, your mum has just been taken by an ambulance on her way to hospital”.
In a split-second my mind flashes back to a similar event from my childhood. A different house, a different scenario, but the outcome was the same – mum heading to hospital in an ambulance.
That time it was a suspected heart attack that turned out to thankfully be a less serious angina attack from which she fully recovered. Yet here I stand, many years later as the feelings I felt that day suddenly greet me once more.
“She’s in agony with her stomach and wasn’t in a good way”, he continued.
There’s no good time to have someone you care about find themselves on their way to hospital, but given that we’re amidst a global pandemic involving a virus that is not yet fully understood, it felt like a less than ideal time to receive such information.
I’ve always been good in a crisis. As a serial over-thinker, the years spent analysing the worst case scenarios of every possible eventuality give me an ironic calmness of mind when facing challenges now.
As my body begins to panic, the heart beating a little faster, my mind becomes clearer and more focused, helping me to approach things logically.
The phone call continues for a few more minutes and after capturing as much information as he had on the situation, I hang up and sit myself down on the sofa.
She’s in capable hands, I tell myself, there’s nothing I can do but wait and see how things pan out.
I reach for the PlayStation controller and fire the game I had previously been playing with some mates. This felt like as good a time as any to distract my mind from the situation.
Soon realising that wasn’t the best use of my time, I call my sister, then my brother to make sure they are both alright and to occupy myself as much as anything.
As you can probably imagine, I didn’t get a great deal of sleep that night. I wondered how she was, and cursed the wider situation that prevented me from even being with her at the hospital.
I also wondered what would happen if she weren’t to make it. What would she think of me and more importantly, does she realise how much I value her?
If a mother’s job is to put her children first then mine is an embodiment of that. I know for a fact that she cares more about the welfare of her children than that of her own; something I’m forever telling her not to do but to no avail.
But have I shown my appreciation enough? Does she know just how much she means to me?
I’m so very thankful that I get the chance to tell her.
She has since been sent home with suspected pancreatitis and is recovering well and in good spirits.
We shouldn’t have to wait until people are gone to say the things we feel. How often do we see an outpouring of love after the death of an individual to which they themselves most likely did not fully realise? It’s also true that perhaps, on some occasions, that very realisation of how much one is valued, might just have prevented a premature passing.
Sometimes it takes a major event, usually a health scare, to make one realise just how important others are in our life. I imagine that I am not alone in the stark awareness of our own mortality at this very time, as death tolls are reported daily and we are separated from our loved ones with the primary focus of keeping them safe and healthy.
I feel for those who didn’t quite get the chance to express their feelings towards another before it was too late. We have all either been there ourselves, or know somebody who has felt that horrible feeling of regret. The unexpected nature of life means that we are frequently caught off-guard and sadly, it stands to reason that unfortunate eventuality will befall us again in the future.
But we are blessed with the opportunity to show our gratitude and appreciation for those we hold dear at this time. We may be prevented from giving them a hug at this time, but we can try to articulate our thoughts.
I would like to take a moment to do that for the person I owe the most to.
Mum,
Thank you.
I’m not sure I can ever say that enough.
Thank you for providing me with everything I have ever needed. That sounds like a broad statement but it’s true isn’t it? Whatever I wanted as a child, invariably a toy or game of some sort, if you couldn’t get the exact one you got the next closest alternative. We never went hungry, we always had food and shelter. I may not have appreciated that at the time but I now see how hard you worked to make sure that was the case. As an adult I’m in a position to turn down some of your offers but your generosity can never be questioned.
Thank you for being there for me. Be it nursing me through illnesses or helping me to get back on track when my mind hasn’t been in the healthiest of places, you’ve always been there to offer support. I don’t know what I would have done without you and it’s no exaggeration to say that I owe my life to you. More than just the biological fact that a child owes its’ existence to its’ parents, you have given me a reason for living that hasn’t always been clear.
Thank you for bringing me up with the right values. As you well know, I’ve never really been one for taking notice of compliments I’m given; I don’t like attention and I’m not one for self-promotion, perhaps to my own detriment. That’s a trait I get from you. Yet I think about some of the positive comments that have been directed my way throughout my life, and almost all of them pertain to my morals, manners and character. That’s as much a reflection on you as it is me. You raised me right! You taught me to be kind, polite, well mannered and respectful of others — always.
In a society still infected with poisonous examples of men of low moral standing, you have raised two sons who, I hope, stand as examples of a more progressive disposition. You have empowered a daughter to adopt the mentality that the only limits to what she can achieve are the ones she puts on herself, and given her the platform to pursue her dreams.
Thank you for your sacrifices. Whether it’s time, money or energy, your effort can never be questioned. You have always put your children first, whatever the situation and no matter the consequence to your own health. We haven’t always made it easy for you. I don’t know how much of your chronically high blood pressure is biological and how much is induced by the thought that, for even a second, one of your children doesn’t have everything they need to live a happy and prosperous life.
But we do. We always have done. There is not a single example of a time when you haven’t been there to provide us with whatever it is that we may have needed. Your unwavering support, your unconditional love, your unbeatable roast potatoes!
It’s me writing this letter, but those sentiments will be echoed just as strongly by John and Helen, of that there is no doubt.
I love you. We love you. We are grateful for the love you have given us.
We may not always vocalise it, but it is always the case.
If you ever sit and question whether you have done ‘enough’ the answer is no; you have done more than enough. On every occasion, at every opportunity you have given us everything we need and then some. There is no argument.
Well, there is that one argument we always have and although you won’t agree, it’s settled as far as I’m concerned:
I love you more.
James xx
