Who is there left to be proud of?

I’m sitting here in the Reclining Chair my Mother kindly bought me a few weeks ago in the hope that it would help me maintain a decent level of mobility for the final weeks of my pregnancy. And, after what can only be described as a traumatic and cruel week, I’ve only just managed to drag myself out of the comforting warmth of my bed in the last few hours (yes, I know it’s 2.30pm and I know I’ve just made myself sound like a lazy cow). I should be refreshed and eager to start my day with all the excitement of a school girl awaiting her first disco… Or something. But I just can’t face it.

I’ve been sat staring at this virtual blank page for the last 20 minutes, knowing I have something I want to share with you and not being able to find the words to do so. If I say it out loud or write it down it’ll become more real. I’m not ready for that, yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be. It’s just a shame that, right now, it’s the only thing I have to say.

I’ve always respected my Mother. As much as our relationship has been strained (mainly by the presence and interference of certain others) over the years, as a Mum should, she’s always been there when I needed her most. She’s a strong, independent woman who genuinely cares about the people closest to her.

This is why I wasn’t surprised when, as the traumatic events of last week began to unravel, it was my Mum more than anyone else that was able to keep a calm head, maintain some vague level of normality for the family, put her own feelings aside and just be there for the most important man of our lives when he needed us the most and the rest of us couldn’t bear anymore suffering.

I’m not one for grieving or indeed showing any kind of real emotion openly in public (I am English, remember) so I won’t go into the details of the situation at hand. I’m sure you’re all intelligent enough to put two and two together and make four (not one or four hundred and ninety seven, for example) anyway. However, in spite of this, I feel – probably only again for my own catharsis – that an acknowledgement needs to be made of and at this difficult time.

Perhaps in time I will be able to share with you my most intimate thoughts and feelings on what happened on 3rd November 2012, exactly 2 weeks before my baby is due to make her journey not the world. But for now, the only acknowledgement I can bring myself to make is the pride and further respect I now have for my Mother.

If it wasn’t for her, as much as we were all by his side, watching him fight in true Serviceman style until the bitter end, Group Captain J A Porter, OBE, would’ve left this world alone.

It’s a shame that it’s taken me all of twenty-four years to realise just how special my family is and how privilege I am to come from a long line of such strong, intelligent people. If I’d have known sooner, I would’ve done a thousand things differently. Ah, the power of retrospect. Yet another thing in this world I feel like I should say a big “BUGGER YOU!” to. So, just for the record, that’s the dog, my mind and now a complex exclusively human thought process designed to help us deal with difficult emotions… Oh, I do wonder what’s next on the list, it’s healthy to keep a tally of what makes you bitter in this world (!).

It’s taken me at least four hours to just write this. It seems I’m suffering from a major bout of writer’s block today – great (!) – so, to save you or I from anymore awkward rumblings, I shall sign this off…

I shall sign this off with one final thought (one I can actually fully formulate without breaking):

Thank you, Mum. You’re amazing (even if you do currently have a gross eye)!



One thought on “Who is there left to be proud of?

  1. Pingback: Who is there left to be proud of? | Tales of Minor Frustration

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