I miss my mum, some days its all I think about…why? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you stop what you were doing? Why didn’t you get more help? It seems easier to question these things now when you are much older but back then I was too young to grasp the situation… Unfortunately I’m left with memories I can’t shake, the times when you change from being a mum to being a stranger who wouldnt think twice in hurting your feeling, putting you down. Making us as children, walk the streets in our small town going from small pub to off license begging to get served. Remebering watching you having withdrawal symtoms when you decide to stop drinking. Yes you’d get help but you always seemed to find your way to get back to the bottle. Although this happened I still loved you, you were my mum and I was your son but unfotunately this wasn’t enough.
Mum died when she was only 46, her life cut short. I was 19 when she died and now as i reach 45 i cant help but ask why.