Mum’s chair is empty. It no longer is the place where Mum sits waiting for me to ring or to walk through the door. The chair does not have the same smiling face and caring eyes that once occupied its space and its arms do not reach out to me as it once seemed they did. No-one asks me how I am or what is really happening to me. The chair no longer looks inviting. It is just a chair.
I am so glad I took the time to write Mum’s life stories a few years ago when she was healthy. I tried to capture her spirit, her soul and the wisdom of her life messages as I knew one day, I would need them. Friends try to support me – but it’s not the same. They don’t know me as well as Mum did, and they don’t care as much as Mum did and they don’t love me as much as Mum did.Continue Reading