Sunday, 14 March 2010

Mother's Day


Mother's Day was bound to strengthen memories of Hugh and so it did. I keep remembering past years when I would perhaps receive cards, sometimes flowers, but always a phone call or text message, unless he was on tour and just wasn't able to. All his phone calls would end with 'Love you, Mum' and I still often 'hear' that in my head and it still feels so real.
"I know Hugh will be with you today," my younger daughter had written in my card so he was very much on my mind when  the phone rang this morning. I picked it up, thinking it might be one of my daughters.
"Hi'" said a male voice at the other end. Just for the merest split second, Hugh flashed into my head. But of course it wasn't.
"Oh, sorry, I seem to have the wrong number," said the voice.
"It seems you have," I said, and he ended the call with an apology.

8 comments:

Yorkshire Pudding said...

If Hugh had known, really known the pain and the emptiness he would leave behind, surely he wouldn't have gone down that black and terrible road. My best wishes to you on Mothering Sunday.

Jennyta said...

Thank you, YP. I'm sure you're right, at least, I hope you are.

WendyCarole said...

((((((hugs)))))))))) xx

Jennyta said...

Oh, thank you so much WendyCarole. :)

rhymeswithplague said...

I have just finished reading this entire blog, in reverse chronological order, after seeing your comment on Grumpy Old Ken's post about counselling. I am so sorry for your loss of your son Hugh. Words from friends and strangers are so inadequate, but I think your posts here are a kind of treasure. I'm so glad you decided to record your thoughts. I'm sitting here weeping on American Memorial Day for a young man I never knew. I will keep your family in my prayers.

Bob Brague (Canton, Georgia, USA)

Jennyta said...

Thank you so much, Bob. Your comments and the fact that you took the time to read what I have written mean a lot to me.

Elizabeth said...

Jennyta, I read your blog sometime ago, after encountering you on YP's site. Everybody experiences things very differently, but I just wanted to share with you that not only did my father commit suicide, but also I have lost two children, so although my circumstances are completely different, there are things I can relate to and my heart goes out to you. Like you, I am a counsellor, in my case specialising in bereavement issues; perhaps our experiences give us an insight and knowledge that, in an odd way, it is a priviledge to have and to be able to use. Grief doesn't ever go away fully, but it moulds itself into a manageable shape so that we can carry it better. My love to you.x

Jennyta said...

Thank you for your kind and thoughtful comment, Elizabeth. I think you are right about our experiences giving us a particular insight and knowledge and I hope, at some time in the future, to be able to undertake bereavement counselling again - not yet though...