It comes to something when an episode of Corrie makes me write a blog post! Bear with me though because it’s really got me thinking and it’s almost brought together too running themes within my blog, grief and parenthood. You see I’ve just watched little Sam visit him mum with Nick in the chapel of rest and he said somethings that were quite poignant. He asked whether his mum knew he loved her, he talked about how he wished he’d done more of the little things with her. Now all this brought back memories of Poppa M and how I felt when he passed.

You see when he first died it was such a shock, as I’ve mentioned before it happen so quickly I didn’t have chance to process it. There were no heartfelt goodbyes, memories to share. It just happened and then I felt this horrible multitude of negative feelings, really overwhelming. One thing I really remember and I’ve written about before was forgetting what his voice sounded like and to be honest for the first few days/weeks of losing him I couldn’t remember and try as I might I just couldn’t imagine what his voice sounded like which compounded this fear. Don’t worry now I can, I quite often here his “for God’s sake L” sniping at me as I do something that would’ve pissed him off. But what I didn’t think about was what I’d wished I’d been able to say to him.

I now think about things I wished I’d been able to say, questions to ask and most of all, does he know that I forgave him? Does he know that I loved him and how much I did, because Dad was a troubled man and his actions weren’t always the best but as I grew older I grew to understand more and more and accept him for the person he was, warts and all. For a long time I carried a lot of anger and hurt towards my Dad and I hope he knew that I was able to get over that, I was able eventually to move forward and that I could forgive (not forget, that’s a whole different blog post I’ve yet to write) and love him.

Now I’m a mum I know that deep down, he probably did know and I only really came to realise this as I watched the teary scene on the cobbles. I know I know, a Corrie reference, I’m sorry, but Sam’s words just made me realise it because as he asked these questions of his mum, my mum instinct kicked in and I just thought, “oh yes your mum knew, she knew and she got it so don’t regret anything” and I guess that’s really what prompted me to write this. I’m writing because I want little P to know that despite her diva moments, her strong willed character telling me what she will and won’t wear to nursery (seriously, it’s like a 4 year old fashion montage in my full length mirror) and her endless watching of Sing on repeat (the pig in the washing machine is funny) that I know how much she loves me and that I want her to always remember and know how much I love her.

I suppose I’m not really writing this one for P but yet I also am. Because it’ll be here for her to read if one day she ever needs it. Because I know what it’s like to need to hang on to something when someone’s gone. I kept the voicemail Dad left me on the day he was admitted to hospital, I kept it for as long as I can remember and was heartbroken 30 days later when EE automatically deleted it. I’ve silly things of his that I just can’t get rid of, I still have his number in my contacts list-good job it’s an Indian number and the chances are that the person on the other end only speaks Hindi should I accidentally pocket call them (cringe). Because when someone’s gone forever you cling on to things and need some little reassurances and I guess this is my little way of saying to P that she’s got them if she needs them.

It’s my way of saying that she will remember my voice just like I did my dad’s.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s