365

I wrote this post 5 days ago, but I’ve been sat on it trying to decide whether to post it or not. I’ve decided to post it because I want people to know that even though you can have the worst, most horrendous experience that you can imagine happen to you, there is always a time where things will start to get better. I always wanted this blog to be about honesty and I said way back when I started it that I wanted to share every step with you. This is one of those steps. It just happens to be running parallel with the other “experience” that we’re currently dealing with.

It’s crazy how one single event can change everything you know in the blink of an eye. Thought processes and everyday routines are changed forever. If you actually take a step back and take your time to think about it then you could actually drive yourself insane. The only way to get around it is to keep your mind moving and not stopping to actually think about the details. Of course, what happened is nothing new in life and it’s nothing that hasn’t affected millions of families before us. It had just never happened to our family…….. until now.

It’s Saturday 11th May 2013 @ 0710 and we’re awoken by the telephone ringing. There’s only going to be one of two people calling us that early in the morning and it’ll either be mine or Sam’s mum. I suspect it’s my mum as we had a slight disagreement the evening before and she’ll either be calling to apologise or to give me 2 barrels.

You see, my mum is like our Peggy Mitchell. She’s the head honcho, the numerous uno, the big cheese. If I’m honest with you, I think every action we do in our lives (myself and my brother) is probably influenced by my mum in one way or another. It’s not because we’re mothered or anything like that, it’s just purely because she is the head of our family. She’s 64 years old, Iranian and just over 5ft, but don’t let the small size fool you. She’s like a pitbull when she wants to be and she would kick our butts if we ever stepped out of line (no matter how old we are). I used to call her my little brown magical munchkin when I was at school because, to the astonishment of my friends, she could magic anything out of anywhere. If we needed trainers, they were there, money for going out, there you go. If our friends came over to the house, then dinner would be made for them and they would be looked after as if it was their own home.

Sam answers the phone downstairs and I can hear her talking to someone. She walks into the bedroom with the phone in her hand. “It’s your dad and he just keeps saying your mum’s gone and I don’t know what he means”. She hands me the phone and I hear a faint and wobbly voice on the other end. It’s a conversation that will never, ever leave me.

“Hiya dad, you ok?”

“The paramedics are here…….”

I can still hear it in my head today. Dad’s wobbly distressed voice trying to find the words to say, only to find them repeating over and over.

As I run into the bathroom to put on some clothes, Sam keeps asking me what’s happening, what’s happened? “Dad said mum’s died but he must have made a mistake, he must have it wrong”. As I struggle to find my trainers I keep trying to have a conversation with Sam, but at the same time I keep going through scenarios in my head where he must have got the wrong end of the stick.“Maybe something has happened to mum that required paramedics and dad is in the garden. He thinks she’s died but she’s really ok inside the house. Either way, he’s got it wrong and he’s confused about what’s happened”.

A combination of Starsky and Hutch driving and no traffic makes sure that it only takes 5 minutes to get across town to their house. The whole journey is a bit of a blur as all I’m thinking is “He’s got it wrong. I’ll get there and mum will be stood in the kitchen saying that she’s fine and dad has just overreacted about something”.

As I pull into the cul-de-sac I’m greeted by 2 ambulances and a police car blocking the road. “Shit, shit, shit, no, no, no, no” is what I’m actually mumbling to myself as I get out the car and run toward the house. I run into the garden and straight into the kitchen at speed making Toby (the dog) bark and the 3 paramedics and policeman (that are stood in the kitchen) jump. I look into the front room and I can see dad stood (or more crumpled) in the corner of the room on his own, his face absolutely distraught and all he keeps repeating is “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”. The first paramedic looks at me and says “I’m very sorry, there’s nothing else we can do I’m afraid”. I walk past them and toward my dad and I look to the end of the room. I can see mum on the floor with another paramedic next to her, but for some reason I just go straight to dad. I take him in my arms and he just absolutely sobs into my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” is all he keeps repeating. I’ve never seen my dad cry before and even though this is the most horrendous situation ever, it catches me off guard. I keep telling him he’s got nothing to say sorry for and I get him to sit down. I then walk over to mum. Nothing prepares you for this moment and you just don’t know how you’re going to react. She just looks like she’s sleeping on the floor. I stroke her cheek and try to give her a little pep talk to make her wake up. I think the fact that dad is so distressed and that there are four people, just stood in the kitchen looking like they’ve wandered into the wrong party, is the main reason that I don’t get too hysterical. Dad comes over and sits with me next to mum. After a bit I get up and walk over to the paramedics to thank them for their efforts. The policeman asks if it’s possible for me to identify the body as my dad is in a bit of a state. I say it’s fine and he says he’ll get the paperwork ready. Rob (my brother) runs into the garden with Mandy (his soon to be wife) and he looks at me for reassurance but my face and body language tells him a different story to the one he wants to hear. They go into the front room and go straight to mum and dad.

The paramedics have done everything they can and are given the all clear to leave by the policeman who is sat in the front room. They all leave one by one. I then sit at the table with the policeman and we begin the identification………

Life. Changed. Forever.

I still can’t believe it’s been one year since she’s been gone. It seems so quick but at the same time it seems like forever. Dad’s still struggling big time. Luckily he’s decided to keep working because I think if he retired like he’d planned to, he would go stir crazy. All of mum’s things are in exactly the same places they were before that day. He feels guilty that she’s gone and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. I think as soon as he finds his feet then we’ll all start to fall in line but unfortunately he’s still very rudderless. He is slowly getting better though. I saw my mum everyday and if I didn’t manage to see her then we’d speak on the phone, so it’s been a real struggle in that respect. Crazy little things that you realise are gone forever. Her Sunday lunches, her Iranian cooking and kebabs on a Thursday. Gone. She missed my brother getting married and Charlie being born. In some ways it’s lucky she missed Sam’s diagnosis and struggle because I know it would drive her nuts and she would be worrying 24/7. It’s still really hard trying to adjust. It’s almost like she’s just away on holiday and will be back at some point.

Miss you mum. Xxxx