A letter to my mum on Mother's Day

Dear Mum,

I’ve written you numerous cards over the years, I’ve left scrawled notes around the house and I’ve sent countless texts, but have I ever actually sat down, put pen to paper and written you a proper letter?

Have I ever taken the time to truly thank you?

Yes, I’ve called a hurried ‘ta’ over my shoulder as I let the house as a teen and mumbled a ‘thank you’ into your ear as you’ve squeezed me in a hug, but it’s not enough.

Nothing I ever do will be enough to repay you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

I needed to reach a point in my life before I could fully understand. Not everyone takes this long, but like you always said, I'll get there in my own time. Always have, always will.

Because now I’m a mother, and finally, I get it.

I get it, mum.

I get your incessant worry, I get your constant concerns and I get the heartfelt, all-encompassing love you have for me with every inch of my being every time I look at my own two children.

I get it.

You loved me fiercely.

It manifested in different ways, but I now know that each and every reaction towards me was borne of it.

Anger when I let myself down, joy when I picked myself, disappointment when I couldn’t see the good in myself, despair when I thought I knew it all, and elation as I grew and changed and became my own person.

And despite it all, you never once gave up on me.

That is love.

So, thank you.

Thank you for helping me to find my way, for picking me up and dusting me off, for letting me make mistakes and for cheering me on when I’ve discovered my error and blundered blindly towards the next one.

Thank you for the hours you spent brushing my hair, holding my hand and clapping me on the back.

 

Thank you for the times you trotted patiently alongside me as I waxed lyrical about my grand plans for the summer, my desire to find and secure a boyfriend and my blind rage for the new girl who had the same schoolbag as me.

Thank you for the times you held my hair back as I puked the previous night’s ill-advised cocktail concoction and shouted at me that I should know better.

Thank you for the times you put your arms around me and made everything alright again, and for the moments you placed a cup of tea between my shaking hands and stroked my lower back as I gulped back tears and sniffed back snot.

Thank you for picking me when I needed it and pulling me back down when necessary.

Thank you for the little things, the big things and every other thing in between.

But most of all, thank you for teaching me what it means to be a mother.

I had no idea.

xxx