I lost my mother three weeks ago. She’s been dealing with health problems since I was small so it’s been a fear of mine for years, but this was sudden. As in “go to bed with a mother wake up to a phone call telling you she’s gone” sudden.

I also lost my father just over a year ago, that was fairly sudden as well, but we had a bit of notice for him. I was with him when he died, I got to say goodbye. As for my mother, I was at my home 15 miles away from hers. Her partner was staying up with her and she noticed he was tired so she sent him to bed. When he woke up she wasn’t in bed with him, he thought she’d gotten up before him, turns out she never left the kitchen. She died alone.

There’s a cruel irony to this. My father and I didn’t have the best of relationships, to be honest the symbolism of losing my father hurt far more than losing him as a person because we only really spoke on holidays and birthdays. It was very much “grief for what could have been instead of what was” vibes. My mother however was my rock and I would do anything for her. So the one I had no relationship with I stood vigil over in his final hours, and the one I adored more than anything on this earth died alone. The universe can be a real practical joker sometimes.

She was 68. She grew up on a farm. She did athletics as a teenager, hurdles specifically, and she was good at it. Was lined up to represent our country until an accident that completely destroyed her knees. Always cried when the olympics were on because of that. She LOVED Christmas. She didn’t laugh, she cackled. She loved anything fluffy. She’d always do a little laugh when posing for a photo to ensure her smile looked genuine. She used to ride motorbikes, and had an extreme snobby hatred for scoters/mopeds. She had an allotment that she adored. She’d sit outside and look at flowers for hours. She’d survived multiple heart attacks, a stroke, even a cow falling on her (seriously). And now she’s gone.

We’d be on the phone multiple times a week, given I didn’t live that close it was the best we could do. And we’d talk about the most random stuff. Three days before she died we were on the phone for over an hour about eggs. Eggs! A week before she died, we went out for food for a late celebration of my 30th birthday. I’ve a photo from that day, now the last ever photo of us together. It’s already become one of my most treasured possessions. It’s also the photo I’ve attached to this post. 

Our last conversation was the day before she died. I’d had a major career win. I called her up to celebrate. Had to be a quick call because I had other commitments. I promised I’d call back. I got distracted and forgot. I feel horrible that our final conversation was all about my job. I’ve a friend who’s a mother and she’s gently told me off for feeling bad about it, saying that she’d feel so at peace if her last chat with her own son was one that reiterated that he’s having successes. But I can’t help but feel bad, it’s almost like it was a selfish conversation. But I had no way of knowing it was the last one I guess.

We had future plans. Long winded ones about me wanting to move closer to home, but also more immediate ones. She really wanted to see the new Avatar film, but she couldn’t hack cinemas, too loud for her. So I pre-ordered it for digital release. We’d planned a movie night. We were going to get pizza. I was going to stay at hers. When I got the notification from Apple TV that my preorder was now in my library, I started sobbing. 

I’m angry at our local healthcare system about this though. Her partner’s been telling me of how she was that night. There were signs that something was off. She was trying to put a brave face on. He asked her if he could call her an ambulance, she refused. “I’ll be fine, I’m a tough old bird”, words I’ve heard her say so many times in my life. But the truth is the last time she needed an ambulance they kept her waiting for 8 hours, and then after that they kept her in the back of it for another 12. She was a bit traumatised by it. I can understand that. So now I can’t help but wonder, if the system was actually functioning correctly, if she hadn’t had that incredibly negative experience, could she still be with us now? I’ll never know the answer of course, but I don’t think I’ll ever not be angry but it.

So yeah, I’m sorry, just a bit of a longwinded rant about everything going through my head right now. All in all, the person I loved the most, who loved me the most, is gone. And I don’t really know how I’m supposed to carry on without her. That’s not to imply I’m thinking of doing anything stupid, it’s more “how on earth will all this work now?”. I’ve got people left right and centre saying they’re here for me, anything I need, blah blah blah, but the truth is I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now.

Sudden Loss of my Mother