First off, forgive me for writing this to you in a very public (even though you probably read my posts the most) and second, are you really surprised? In the almost 6 years I’ve been operating, it had to happen some time that I’d devote a post to my biggest (and maybe only?) true fan.
Third off and most importantly, I love you. You’re the person I’m closest to and the one person in my life that always has my back. No questions asked, no look on your face that I’ve let you down because I did (not) do something, or that “sigh” when I ask for help.
You’ve been my rock for 31 years and one of my safe harbours in a life that has had a lot of storms and rollicking waves. You’re the first person I told about being asexual and the first person I told about starting therapy for my eating disorders, both times when I’ve been terrified out of my mind and sobbing on the phone and trying not to upset you too much. When the world gets too much, I know I can call you or just text you a heart emoji. I don’t always completely unburden myself to you anymore like I did when I was younger for fear of putting more on your shoulders than you need and I worry about you constantly even though you always assure me you’re alright. Sorry, Mum, I’ve already watched a parent get sick and pass away, that worry isn’t going anywhere.
I like to joke that I’m responsible for all of your greys and the stress lines from everything I’ve put you through, but I have to say, I wouldn’t be here without you. Not in the literal way in that you gave birth to me, but in that I sometimes wouldn’t be able to have the strength to go onwards. You encourage me to take risks or do things that might otherwise scare me but are good for “character development” (i.e. hiking difficult places, these last few years, travelling, extracting myself from near-impossible situations), though you do remind me that sometimes I don’t make the wisest decisions (i.e. hiking solo, pulling myself out of my car after my car accident, etc.), but you never make me feel stupid. You’ve certainly said “well that was stupid” like when I locked my keys in my car about 3xs in one month, but it was always about the situation, never me.
All in all, thank-you for being my Mum. I have had a lot of father-figures in my life after Dad passed (some I call Sir, some I consider my friends, and my brothers for the amount of car questions I’ve peppered them with), but there’s only one Mum, you.
Love you lots. Always and forever.
P.s. If you’re trying to connect the dots between the picture and the letter, let me explain. I came across it on my day trip today to Rosemont General Store. It instantly took me back to when I was little and picked currants off of the bush out back of the garage & put them into one of those little black plastic bowl/plates. I brought them into the house to try them and offered them to you and Dad. I’m pretty sure you got upset that I had been out back without supervision so I made you a tea with far too much milk and sugar, which was one of the ways we used to get back in your good graces after we did something we shouldn’t have.