I think mothers are the most unappreciated people in the world. And I think mine is the coolest there will ever be. Unbiasedly.
I was loved before I was even born. I was loved before I even knew what love was, because of her. I hold a reverence for my mum that I don’t think I’ll ever feel towards anyone else, purely because of the amount of reasons I have given her to not love me, and yet she’s continued to. I am so lucky to know unconditional love.
My mum sees everything. She sees the beauty I don’t see in myself. She sees when my friends aren’t good for me. She sees when I struggle. She finds everything I think has disappeared. She is the only person in the world who knows me better than I know myself. She knows my every move, what I want, before I do.
She has never tried to shield me from the ugliness of the world. But she’s raised me to have faith despite it. To take risks and struggle and get hurt and succeed and thrive and come back home later. Because she single-handedly turned our home into a sanctuary, one full of laughter and joy and music. One where our achievements are celebrated everywhere. My sixth form acceptance letter is still on the fridge from almost four years ago. My brother’s GCSE artwork is on the wall on the upstairs landing. There are pictures of Ellen everywhere you turn, because her existence alone was enough for all of us to burst with pride.
Our home is one where we can disagree. One where I can tell her when I think she’s wrong (though she never really is). One where I can do exactly the thing she told me not to do and still come home and immediately tell her.
She has protected me, advocated for me, and given me the strength to protect and advocate for myself. She has taught me when to be bold and when to let karma run its course. She has written countless strongly worded emails for me, taken me to mental health appointments, sat through a million meetings. She has dragged me, kicking and screaming, through the lowest points in my life. Her support has been steady, and constant.
I have watched her live her worst nightmare over the last year. I have tried to imagine her agony, but it’s been too much to bear, and yet she carries all of it every day. Every ounce of pain and guilt and heartbreak.
And despite everything, I have watched her continue to offer her shoulder to everyone else. I have watched her give and give and give. I have watched her be disrespected and taken for granted by countless people and I’ve watched her take it without complaints because sometimes it’s just easier not to rock the boat.
Despite everything, our home is still one full of laughter. And I don’t take that for granted.
My mum is the coolest person there will ever be. She is my hero, and Connell’s hero, and Ellen’s hero too. She deserves the world. The world does not deserve her.
To lose a child and keep living takes a strength that most of us are lucky enough to not be able to comprehend. I will go forever wishing she didn’t have to be strong.
And I will go forever aching with pride when someone tells me that I am my mother’s daughter, because if I can be half the woman she is, I might be the second coolest person there will ever be.
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