Mum, you’re irreplaceable – but the other women in my life are doing a pretty good job: the letter you always wanted to write
To my mum: I was 12 when you died, and now, looking down the barrel of my 30th birthday, I realise more than ever how unfair it was on everyone that you were gone before your 39th birthday.
I’ve had far more time without you than with you, but not a day goes by when I don’t think of you. I know so little about you as a woman in your own right: all of my memories are through a child’s eye, or are second-hand stories passed on. I hope you would have approved of the way I’ve turned out. I hope you approve, too, of the women I’ve used to fill my mum void. You’re irreplaceable, of course, but they’re doing a pretty good job.
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