Through younger eyes

Next blog post today was a tough one to revisit. I wrote this when I was 15, just a few weeks after she died and submitted it as part of my Standard Grade English portfolio. Looking back on it, there's some key reflections there and feelings that are still there today. I've kept it as a it of a reminder both of how far I've come but also how far I still have to go.

I wanted to share it so show grief, not through an adults eyes, but through those of a teenager.

Never Say Never...

From that day on, I'll never say 'never' again. It was the worst day of my life and to be honest, I can't believe there will ever be another day as bad as that.

It was Tuesday 8th of February of the year 2000. I was off school with a kidney infection and had been to the Doctors with my mum, Mum had also been to see Doctor Thornton as she was 23 weeks pregnant and had a condition called Placenta Previa , which was potentially life-threatening if the appropriate precautions were not adhered to. Mum was very worried about this as she had already had four miscarriages. Close friends and family knew how determined mum was to have this baby and my step-dad, Nigel and I were very supportive of her.

Mum and I had left the surgery that night feeling very confident and relieved as mum's condition had been explained more fully by the Doctor. On our way to Arbroath, we had a little chat as mum was worried something would happen to her. I assured her that this would not be the case as she was my mum and I wouldn't let anything happen to her and we had a joke about what Nigel would have for tea every night... he wasn't much of a cook!

When we arrived home, I played my computer while mum made the tea. It's funny, because I can never remember what I've had for tea but I'll remember that tea forever. It was the last meal she ever cooked, pizza and chips.

After tea we watched some TV and I returned to my computer. Mum always said I played too much! At half past nine I heard Nigel going to work as he worked night shift. Then, about 15 minutes later, I heard a scream. I ran through the house like an Olympic sprinter, letting nothing get in my way. I reached the front door and there she was, my mum, on all fours struggling to breathe. Mum said "I can't breathe, my neck's swelling up". I ran to the phone and called the Doctor. He said he would be there soon, though not soon enough. I returned to the front door to see that my mum had gone blue in the face.

Then came the last words she ever said.

I'm so scared

I ran through the house to phone an ambulance, fear taking over. Then I heard it, the sound which will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Thud.

I threw down the phone and ran through to see my mum lying before me in a heap...

As the ambulance and the doctor arrived, I can remember saying to my mum, "come on, you're not going anywhere". I went inside, the Doctor came to me and said the seven words which I hope I'll never hear again... "I'm sorry, there's nothing we could do". I screamed out and hit my head off the kitchen door hoping I was having a nightmare I wish that was the case!

I can't remember much after that except having to phone Nigel at his work and my family saying "you did your best" or "you make us proud". From then on it was a bad week, I began to accept that my mum would never speak to me again and I felt so bad for all the times I'd been cheeky to her and all the times I hadn't done what she had said.

I feel that now I've got a big empty space in my life, with nothing to fill it except the determination to do all the things that mum wanted me to do that she never got the chance to do. It's strange, some nights I may be sitting doing my homework and I'll still automatically shout through "mum, I'm stuck". I get no answer and realise she's not there to help me anymore. I just hope she's gone to a better place and that she is happy.

I hear people talking every day about how much they dislike their mum because they've been given into trouble for doing something they shouldn't have been doing. I feel like stopping them and telling them to be happy that they have mums who love them very much even though they don't seem to show it. I often sit and think "why did it have to be her. Why couldn't it have been me?"

It saddens me to think what my mum has left behind, a family who loved her and friends who needed her and were there for her when she needed them the most. And then I have to face it. You only have one mum and when she's gone, the world falls down.