A letter to Mum on the third anniversary of her death

Mother's Day 2006

Dear Mum

It doesn’t need to be said but I’ll say it anyway. I miss you. I’ve got a photo of you and me on my desk. I see it every day and say hello to you. It’s a shame you’re not able to respond.

A lot’s happened in three years, a lot I wish you’d been here to see and take part in. Glen and I are in Canada, living a great life, seeing so many things and I know you’d be happy for us. We’re getting married in October too, and even though you’d probably roll your eyes at the idea, I’m sure you’d nevertheless get choked up at the ceremony.

Of course, there have been some tough times, not the least of which have to do with you not being here. I remind myself though, that I had you for 28 years and it’s a lot more than some people get with their parents. I feel bad that Donna didn’t get as long with you but I know you tried, your strength, holding on as long as you did, was amazing. We shouldn’t have been surprised though.

Sometimes I wish I’d told you more what you mean to me. I think you already knew and, in light of what you were going through, it seemed cruel to tell you how much you mattered and how sad we’d be once you were gone. No doubt you knew something of what you were going to miss and, when I think about it, that sense of futility and inevitability fills me with immense sadness and tears come even though I don’t want them to.

But then I think of you and how strong you were and how tears, if one must have them, shouldn’t last long because there are better things to do than weep. So we soldier on, as you would have wanted, and in that act remember you each time.

When good things happen, I wonder at your part in them. When times are bad, I think of you and either, by way of your example, or of what you went through, whatever I’m going through doesn’t seem so tough.

This is probably too much soppiness and sentimentality for you, so instead I’ll sign off with a few paraphrased words I spoke at your funeral (which was pretty good as far as funerals go, don’t you agree?), words that will always be true.

In the end, all I would like to say is that I feel blessed you were my mother, I am grateful for everything you did for me, and I will love you forever.

Love always

Daniel

Us in 2010

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18 Replies to “A letter to Mum on the third anniversary of her death”

  1. with tears in my eyes now …I want to say what a beautiful thing to read first thing this morning. Your words left me speechless – I am so sad that your mum has passed but so happy that you had such a special relationship with her. lots of love, Sophia xxx
    “Uncle Dan – your muscles are so strong and you taught me kindness at the Zoo. I have tears in my eyes too. I love my mum so much.” Katelyn xxx

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      1. lol@muscles…I don’t know?!! She read the last line of your blog and i showed her the pictures and then she came up with her own message. I am guessing she mentioned muscles because you used to always pick her up when we would visit the Zoo…i could be wrong but I assumed based on the taught me kindness stuff that she was thinking of her special Zoo visits. I didn’t ask for any elaborations…she spoke and I typed! Kids say amazing things all by themselves, don’t they?! Anyway, hope you had a lovely day xxx

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  2. Hi Daniel. This is such a moving post. Thanks for sharing and I’m sure your mum would be so proud of you. I know how difficult it can be…my mom died when I was 12 and some days, it seems like just yesterday. Keep your head up! – Donna

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