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January’s got the Blues

Seven years ago I watched as January allowed pancreatic cancer to steal my mum’s zest for life. Over the course of the first three months of 2017 we lost my mum slowly. And painfully. Gracefully, and peacefully. Cancer, COPD, mental illness and dementia have gradually, over a much longer period, eroded the man that my dad once was. In some cases he has become a happier, more fun-loving grandad than he was a father, but in another he is just the husk of the man that could fix ANYTHING. A technology-loving, recipe-following, policeman. January 2024 bears witness to another parent’s dwindling life as I see the fear in his eyes. Yet I am pleased that he still remembers who I am, my name. I hate the sadness and pain in everyone’s face, the tears in their eyes. I hate, even more, the pleading for help, knowing he would rather be, and should be allowed to be, at peace. New year. New grief. Constant reminder that the world keeps turning and time keeps on ticking.

Gentleman Gulliver

I can’t stop hearing those words “Gulliver is dead”. Out of the blue, completely unexpected, most certainly unwelcome. I didn’t want them to be real. I wanted to un-hear them. I wanted that phone to be as far from my ear as possible. I threw it onto the bed and just kept on murmuring those horrid words. I got up and walked into the hotel bathroom. The grief swamped me abs pulled me to the floor. How was this possible. My boy. My beautiful boy. Dead. Give. Forever. And me - so far away. The grief wracked my body and overwhelmed me. Pull yourself together. Stand up. Open the door. Get dressed. Go down to breakfast. One step at a time. I walked barefooted to the restaurant. I stared blankly. Confused and struck dumb. Trying to be strong but crying all the time. Red eyes we finally made it back to the yard. Deep breath. I opened your stable door. There lay my big handsome giraffe. Tongue out (as always). First time I saw you laid down. Last time I would see you. I cried and crie

LuluSLR: Mum's Got Cancer; Part Two (originally publsihed 9 January 2017)

Sometimes I think I have got it all together and that I am going to be OK. Other times I find myself crying as I am driving along. And there are times like now I can feel my stomach churning and my entire body shouting "I'm not ready yet". I have had the pragmatic conversations. We have spoken wills and funeral services. I have even looked at coffins and scatter tubes. I know where Mum wants her ashes to be scattered and the type of hymns she likes. I have asked if I could read a poem and if my daughter can attend. I can do all of this but I cannot accept that it is going to happen. I can say that Mum has had a good life and had the opportunity to travel. That we, as a family, have had more years than we thought we would be graced with. Never did we imagine Mum could fight off the MS as she has done. Never in a million years did we see this happening and am I ready for it? Am I heck as like. I feel like I have to keep on reminding Mum how much I lo

LuluSLR: Mum's Got Cancer; Part One

I originally published this post on 13 December 2016, a year before my son was born, and four years ago today. I thought, with the anniversary of Mum's death on the horizon, and with losing two friends to this disease in recent times I would re-publish these posts (minus the fundraising bits for Pancreatic Cancer). I thought long and hard about writing something knowing Mum doesn't like to talk about these things. However I think that everyone now knows and, being selfish: for me this is cathartic. Much like my #100SadDays blog I don't want this to be all doom and gloom. I want to talk about how it has made me feel and how it has affected everyone; including my beautiful mum. I have written about #cancer before; it isn't a new subject for me. I have spoken freely about how I feel about it and how it has affected both me, my family and my friends. I have said that it doesn't "touch" people as so often is coined: it rapes and kills and blights

LuluSLR: in case you were wondering Lulu; the answer is yes

Here is a little insight for you. Tonight we managed to pop out for a beer before getting the kids and after doing the horse. Whilst there I had two whole beers and chatted to other people in the pub. I then spent the entire journey home having to remind myself that people don’t want to talk to me. I am fat I am boring. I am ugly I am repetitive. I am a let-down and a useless Mum. So do I stop having beer; going out, or being me?

LuluSLR: Christmas Letter 2020

I simply cannot remember the last time I wrote a Christmas letter - a tradition I had started and planned to continue throughout my life. Not only was it a toast to Mum (she always wrote a great Christmas Letter) but people always liked to recieve them. Well somewhere along the way I stopped doing them. I know I have posted one as a blog post before and here I am again. It isnt the easy way out but it is a more environmental option (and a good one for someone without access to a printer)! My reason for stopping in the past was that I felt I didnt really have very much to say; my letters always seemed to say the same thing - there was always a drama with work (and this year is no different). However 2020 has been a year that no one will forget and as such I thought I should commemerate it with the return of the Crimbo letter! Just before Christmas last year Alex, the kids and I moved in together to a lovely house in Farnignham. It meant that Christmas decorations were limited and