nojomo 14

Sorry, I’ve been writing but haven’t had the chance to copy over here. Here is today’s nojomo entry.

Happy birthday to Rich’s younger big brother!

Okay, I’ve been flitting around this subject because it’s something I’m really struggling with at the moment.

Who was my biggest influence is also the answer to today. Who is no longer in my life?

It’s almost twelve years since she died. Other members of the family use the phrase “since she was killed,” but that’s such a violent word don’t you think? I can’t imagine anyone, irrelevant of their relationship with their mum, wants to think of such a violent thing happening to their mum.

Most of you know what happened but for my new friends here, my parents were in a car accident on the 10th December 2000. My mum was driving and was heading back to home town after an afternoon Christmas bash held by one of my dad’s old work partners. The car stalled as she pulled onto a fast moving road and an oncoming car hit their car on the driver’s side. My mum died on impact and my dad was in a coma.

I hate that she never knew her grandkids and, even if she can see them, she’s never been a part of their lives. They know all about her, I talk about her (the good and bad) and they know what she looks like but she loved kids and babies so much – heck, she had four of us! – and I would have loved to have her to talk to when they were babies.

My dad was a great stand in but his medical cap was always put firmly in place when I asked for advice. Mum would have come from the maternal corner.

I used to dream about her and in those dreams she would hold me and I could feel and smell her as she really was. I miss those dreams. I would love to feel and smell her again, even though they always left me so sad when I woke up.

I remember driving to my parents house. We (the sibs) were piled into two cars driving back from visiting dad in hospital the day after the accident. We hadn’t been to the house yet as we’d found out at around midnight the previous night and decided that we should converge on Yorkshire in the morning. We live in different parts of the country so we met at York hospital and took shifts with dad so he wouldn’t wake up alone.

As we drove towards my parents house – the house they moved to when I was six months old – I saw mum walking along the street and I felt this flood of relief that they were wrong, even though I knew it couldn’t be true.

Of course, it wasn’t mum. It was their next door neighbour. I hated her for a few minutes. I hated her for living, for looking like my mum from behind.

It took a week for dad to wake up. And that’s the thought that hurts me the most. His absolute grief at waking up. He immediately knew something was wrong and his fear was realised when he asked (his first words) “where’s mum?”

I’d give so much to see her hold my girls, to teach them the way she taught me. Her positive outlook on life, her acceptance of everyone, her non judgemental outlook on the world.

Yeah, it never goes away and she has left an enormous, gaping hole in all our lives.