Happy birthday…
Today’s my mum’s birthday. She would be an incredible 72 years old, had not cancer ended her life when she was three years younger than I am now…
I know, I know, it’s a morbid thought and pointless, too. But I can’t help thinking of it, not only on our respective birthdays, but quite often throughout the year, even after 24 years – she died just a month after my son was born (and sadly never got to see him in person).
And of course I miss her… I wish I could talk to her when I’m particularly happy, and ask advice when I’m particularly down – as I am now. She wasn’t the kind of mum who would mollycoddle you and cook your favourite meals when you visit. But she was a good, no-nonsense friend who would say exactly what she thought (I’ve got that trait from her, I suppose), with whom you could go out for a drink or two and talk things over. And that’s what I’d really need today… right now…
Happy birthday Mutti!
in March 1982
You really look like her.
She sounds like she was a lovely woman XX