Dear Mum, Here’s what I wish I could tell you now that you’re gone

The past five years have been difficult, but day by day things get better.

Dear Mum,

I’ve lived life after life since you’ve left and all I’ve thought about since, is being able to tell you. It’s hard to celebrate things in my life without you, it’s hard to enjoy things sometimes but then I remember that it’s all you’d want for me.

The past five years have been difficult, but day by day things get better.

I spent two years struggling the way you told me you had struggled living with your own mother. While grandma took me in and did what she thought was normal when taking care of children, you’d know better than anyone that it was unsustainable.

I had to leave, and I did. I spent a while feeling guilty, feeling like I betrayed you for leaving your family behind but ultimately, I know you’d understand. That was the best thing about you, you always, always, always understood and it was what I could count on.

The boy you loved so much, the one you thought I’d marry — we split up. It was rough but for the best. The hardest part was knowing how upset you’d have been and not being able to tell you rather than the break up itself.

I went to university, I studied Politics and International Relations, something I never expressed interest in while you were here but tossed myself into after you left. It was enjoyable for a while but in the end, I became apathetic about it again.

While at university, I moved a lot which was strange considering I spent the first 16 years of my life in the same house, our home. I haven’t found home in any building the same way since because home isn’t home without you. Grief is soul-destroying sometimes.

There was a worldwide pandemic which was tough but if I go into too much detail about that then I don’t know that I would ever stop writing. It was really difficult and I cried for you every day, I remember repeatedly saying ‘I want my mum’ while rocking back and forth way too often. I still feel like that a lot but it’s not every day anymore.

I got a cat, Ushi, I know you always wanted a little girl cat because you thought they’d be better behaved than our cat, Snowie. You were wrong, she’s somehow worse but I love her to pieces. Becky says that she’s convinced I birthed this cat myself because of how similar we are. You’d love her too.

I’d speak about how I’m still best friends with Becky here, but I know you’d already know that. You always said we were attached at the hip and we still are almost a decade later. She misses you a lot too and often wishes she could ask for your advice. I wish you could give her advice too, and I’d be in the room laughing.

I moved in with my boyfriend. I know you always told me not to live with someone so soon into a relationship and I guess I should have listened. Living with someone during a global pandemic was difficult. Sorry for not taking your advice, I hope it makes you chuckle that you’re still telling me what to do even after you’ve left.

Since then, I’ve moved into a house, completely on my own. Weirdly, my first night that I was alone was great and all I could think about was how proud you would be of me. I know that’s not a typical ‘living alone’ experience, most people cry and I didn’t, so thank you for making me have a positive spin on it. Grief is great sometimes.

This house has been the closest I’ve been to home since you and I’ve been here for almost two years now.

Snowie lives with me now, I don’t think I could ever be apart from him given how much you loved that cat. He’s not as crazy as he was when he was younger but he doesn’t get along with Ushi, they tolerate eachother but I think he misses being the centre of attention. I think of you a lot whenever I see him so I hold him like a baby and a few tears roll down my cheeks. Grief is weird sometimes.

I graduated from university. I was worried I would be alone on the day but Dad’s family came to see me — not Dad obviously — but they were there. We took photos. I walked on the stage. I shook a random old man’s hand. I cried a lot afterwards.

I wish you could’ve seen me in my robes with my hat on. I know you would’ve worn my hat and asked me to take pictures of you with a big grin on your face. I wish I could have.

Thank you so much for being supportive of me playing games all the time.

Thank you for buying me countless DSi’s when I kept breaking them.

Thank you for listening to me when I asked for a 3DS instead of the ‘PSP Vita’, I could never convince you it was the PS Vita, could I?

Thank you for getting me a computer and never complaining when I spent all day in my room playing League of Legends.

Thank you for bringing fruit to my room while I did.

All of that led to me pursuing my dream career, being a games journalist. I know how cool you’d find it that I actually became a writer after I spent so many hours writing stories you pretended to like.

I specialise in hardware so I get a lot of cool tech all the time and every so often I get something I know you’d adore and sneakily take from my room. Like my pink cat ear headset with light up ears or my virtual reality console.

Sometimes I get to go to cool events, just this weekend I went to MSI, a League of Legends tournament. I had to step away in the middle of an interview because I started crying thinking about how all I wanted to do was share this event with you. Grief sucks sometimes.

I have friends that speak to their parents all the time, even well into adulthood, and I think about how often we’d talk if you were still here. I want to say every day but realistically I know I’d take it for granted and probably call you every now and then. I’m sorry.

There’s so much I wish I could tell you. I think about you every day and grief comes in waves.

I hope you’d be proud of me. I promise I try every day to make sure of it.

Love from Jasmine.