Bereaved mother, writing it all down
It has been one year and two months since Fred died, and it is my second #NationalBereavedParentsDay. That seems an extraordinary thing to write, but there it is. In that time, I have relied on the strength and grace of those that were bereaved before me, and have seen others follow. I have also seen … Read more
How we talk about children’s cancer matters. It’s easy to worry about saying the right thing, the wrong thing, and often people end up saying nothing at all, which is the worst of all. The language used usually involves wars, battles, fighting, bravery. In many ways it’s odd. We never say a child lost their battle against an articulated lorry, but cancer it seems is up for the fight.
When I think of the people who have made a difference in my life and with whom I don’t share DNA, Pauline is definitely up there. She was my Mum’s best friend and one of the very few people I have known my entire life. This week I went to her funeral. This was written … Read more
3rd July is National Bereaved Parents Day. Organised by A Child of Mine , it was set up in 2020 to raise awareness for all parents who have lost a baby or child of any age, and from any circumstance. All grief is painful, and some of these words might resonate with any grief, but … Read more
The fact that New Year comes so hard and fast after Christmas seems unnecessary and unfair. There are a couple of days to catch your breath, mainly fuelled by pastry, and then on we go. Christmas weighs heavy, overloaded with nostalgia and ghosts of Christmas past. Everywhere is hanging with memories of those we love … Read more
Baby shoes. Worn. Incredibly worn. Scuffed from trips and falls, stained from damp grass, and sand, and mud. Darker than they once were. Burnished. They are red leather, oxblood smart with two tiny velcro straps. Laces could wait. We bought them from the tiny shop down that little road – the posh shop with the … Read more
Like a marble slab, with grief comes weight. It’s a suffocating, crushing pressure that pushes you down from above, and pulls you from beneath. Staying alive takes focus and intense concentration. This breath, this step. Like a child we learn to live again. This is how we breathe, in, out, in, out. This is how … Read more
When I was a child, I loved Mother’s Day. More specifically, I loved Blue Peter and never more so than when the presenters uttered the magical words “Mums leave the room” before they unveiled this year’s craft creation. I’m actually rubbish at crafts, so my Mum would feign delight at the latest wrapping paper, matchbox … Read more
One of Fred’s favourite songs that I sang to him when he was small was The Little Tin Soldier. Originally by Donavan, it was a song my brother had sung to me when I was similarly small, so I know all the words. The story, based on the Hans Christian Andersen story,, is about a … Read more
I always loved World Book Day, although I pretended I hated it. I bristled at the expectation and I think at one point argued that it was a construct of the patriarchy. However, I was dedicated. My rules were strict, no film characters allowed. If it was a film then the book had to have come first.
There is a character in LA Confidential called Rolo Tomasi. One of my favourite books, a nice counterbalance to Daphne Du Maurier, it’s a brutal crime story of police and political corruption, and a triumph of the broken and flawed over the venal. It’s very much a tale for our age. Rolo Tomasi doesn’t exist. … Read more
I couldn’t find a feather, there’s never one when you need one. You can’t plan these things, or know where to look. They are not like conkers or pine cones. Feathers find you, carried on the breeze in search of a new home. People tell me that they are messages from the other side, sent … Read more