 Walking from the hospital to the car last Christmas morning, I was still wearing my Santa hat, unable to contain the tears. I was overwhelmed by the realisation that my beautiful mum was going to die.
It’s been 12 weeks since she died. I found her wallet recently. There was her driver’s licence, her credit cards, and exactly $7.05 in coins. Also tucked away in her distinctive handwriting on a folded up piece of paper were the mobile phone numbers and addresses of my dad and siblings. Mum didn’t have a mobile, nor did she have any social media accounts. She didn’t know how to use a computer. Still, she knew how to contact the people she loved the most. How much I would love to receive one of her beautiful cards, perfectly picked for whatever the occasion in question, in my letter box just one more time. She would send a card with a sweet note inside, often with a scratchie or two included, to celebrate birthdays, new jobs, or just to send love.
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