It would have been my mum’s 60th birthday tomorrow (18th of March). That seems quite odd.
She died over 14 years ago aged 45. I can’t really imagine what she’d have been like at 60; probably much the same as I remember her. It’s just 60 isn’t on my radar, whilst 45 is just 10 years older than I am now and rather too close for comfort.
I do still fantasize about all of the lunches and chats over a bottle of wine we’d have had. I was in my final year of university when she died and we’d already started having those kind of lunches when I was back home on holiday and our relationship was becoming increasingly that of close friends not just mother and daughter. She’d have been a fantastic granny (I kind of assume she’d have gone for that title as that’s what I called her mum) and as my dad has said – many times – she would probably have tried to move in with Matt and I so that she could have helped 24/7 with the kids.
She absolutely hated having her photo taken, but I do have this one of her with my brother and I at my 21st birthday party a couple of weeks before she died unexpectedly. Even she felt compelled to have her pic taken at the occasion she’d spent so much time organising. She would absolutely freak if she knew I’d used it.
My mum always made my dad promise that if anything ever happened to her, he’d do everything he could for my brother and I. He’s stayed true to his word and has done a fantastic job. Just one example is that, despite still working part-time, he helps me out with the morning school run every day. My mum would have been proud of all of us.
I’m not going to go on about what a fantastic mother she was (and she really was the most amazing one), as anyone who knew her already knows this, but I’ll be raising a glass for this milestone birthday and will no doubt be thinking about what might have been in our relationship at this stage of my life and what might have been for the grandchildren she didn’t meet.