The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]

Ciao Mamma …
November 3, 2020, 7:30 am
Filed under: Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents

Today would have been Mum’s 88th birthday.

Oh how I wish she was here for it.

I’d have gone to pick her up to bring her to our house.

I’d have a chair set up just for her so she could look at the garden.

I can see and hear her now.

Her face lit up, gently shaking her head as she said, “Oh Robert, it’s so beautiful”

We would sit and chat and she would tell me how happy she is that we are now in the same country.

Around 3pm, Otis would come bouncing in the house.

He would see Mum and shout, “Nona!!!” and run into her outstretched arms.

She would envelop him into a big hug and kiss his cheeks and tell him how much she had missed him.

Then they would chat and I’d see Mum’s eyes shine bright while worrying she may be distracting him from things he wanted to do.

But he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with her. Nattering. Talking. Explaining what he had for lunch at school that day.

Eventually he would get on to Roblox and ask Mum if she would like to play it with him.

Mum would gently explain she doesn’t know how and then he would say she could watch him instead … if she liked.

And she would.

And I’d watch my Mum and my son have the sort of moment together I always dreamt about.

Eventually it would be time for presents and cake.

We would start with the gift Otis got her.

God knows what it would be … maybe a mug that he chose from Sainsbury’s or something and a home made card … and she would treat them as if she had been bathed in jewels.

Eventually it would be time for the cake.

She would tell Jill she shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. Jill would respond by telling her not to be so silly.

And we’d have a load of candles and she would ask Otis to help her blow them out.

Then, as we cut it up, she would ask for a small piece and then proceed to tell us how delicious it was and how wonderful a baker Jill is.

Then ask for a little more.

Because – well – it is her birthday.

And as the day turned to night, the lights in the garden would start to shine and Mum would treat it like it’s an encore performance – marvelling at it’s beauty while I told her that it was because she left me our family home, that we were able to do this.

To have a place that was so perfect for who we are and who we will become.

To tell her to stop worrying that she wasn’t going to leave me much.

Because the love I was given and the encouragement I received was more than I could ever hope for.

But for her and Dad to leave me our family home as well …

Well, that’s an abundance of generosity and love.

And I’d kiss Mum and thank her for everything and say I hoped she understood why I had to sell her house.

There would be a moments pause before she would break into a smile and say, “of course and I am so happy it has helped you have this beautiful home” and I would kiss her cheek and tell her how much I loved her and missed her and how I wished she would stay the night.

And she would look at me.

Right in the eyes.

Her bottom lip would slowly curl into her mouth and I would see her gently biting down on it in an attempt to try and control her emotions.

Her beautiful brown eyes would gently glisten and say everything without speaking a word.

And I would be doing the exact same back to her.

Because we both know she can’t.

That she has to go. To return to Dad.

To hold his hand and feel safe in her other place.

A place I wish I could visit to see the parents I miss so much.

Happy 88th birthday Mum.

I love you so much.


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