Thank You

Dear Mum,

How are you? Is the weather warm where you are? Have you and dad been happy?

I do miss you. We’ve always been more like sisters than mother and daughter. Do you remember the time we wore the same dresses? Blue for you, purple for me, at that conference. We were like twins, only you were prettier and taller (without the heels!). We did turn heads ha ha ha. You had the red bike and I had the blue one, and you were always a more confident rider than me. We spent so much time together when dad ‘left’. We were always there for each other.

You stuck it out, I’ll give you that and I learnt so much from you. Now that I’m married myself, I’m beginning to understand your ‘meekness’. Yes, I finally married him, John, and we are very happy together, I only wish you and dad were there. It wasn’t the big, white, church wedding you had, it was a quiet one at the registry office, but I got to wear the ivory, Princess-style dress I always wanted. We honeymooned on the Isle of Wight, where you and dad always took Philip and me for the holidays. John and me went into that same oldy worldy cafe you loved so much. I thought of you and had the same cake you always had. I miss you so much.

I know I was a bxxxxh when I was a teenager, but it was the same time dad ‘left’ and I just couldn’t understand what was going on. Thinking back, you had the patience of an angel with me. Philip had already left home to get married and I felt as if I was on my own. Of course, I wasn’t. You were always there, day in, day out, trying to encourage me (even though I was ever so moody). I really wish I’d been different for you back then. You were going through hell with dad!

You taught me so much, I think mostly how to be a good wife for John. Your apple pies were to die for, and your stew and dumplings every Sunday were from heaven. I’ll never be as good a cook as you, just as well I married a chef, but my dinners are decent (or so I’m told). I really enjoy being a wife. When I do the washing, I always think of when we did the washing together, with the twin tub, and taking turns doing the ironing. You taught me a lot of practical things.

Do you remember when you went into missionary work? How you tried so hard to encourage me to join you. I did try but I wasn't a touch on you when it came to knowing the scriptures. I still see Anne and Tony, you remember them, the couple who joined the congregation for a while, and because they lived so near us, Tony always gave us a life in their car — to anywhere really — even the shops. You could speak French like a native but I did ok with BSL for the deaf. Good times to remember.

It was terrible at home though at that time. Dad had lost his mind — ‘left’ — and I don’t know how you stuck it out. I’m sorry I left but I just couldn’t take it any more. Even Philip gave up seeing you and dad. I know I moved out but I did try to see you and dad as much as I could. I just couldn’t take it when dad turned violent.How did you keep your faith in him? What changed him into a much calmer man? You did something right.

I do miss you mum. I dream about you, not often, but we are so happy when we see each other in my dreams. Your face lights up like an angels, and the joy I feel inside is like walking on air. It wasn’t until I was much older and you and dad had ‘moved’, especially after I married John, that I wish I had done more for you and thanked you more.

There’s only ever one mum and you’ll always be mine. You showed me how to have faith in people. I just hope I gave you some happiness when you were here.

Thank You mum for being so perfect, for being you.

All my love, Elizabeth

(P.s. I’ll bring you some flowers when I see you next)