This is a peculiar post to write.
In fact the title gives it away.
"The Last Post"
There's no getting away from it. Indeed it is. Well around here anyway.
After two years of blogging about pre-schoolers and young kids, I've arrived at the realisation that they're growing up and are preparing to leave me home alone.
One day soon, they'll go to school kissing their Mummy and come home shouting "Mum".
But I'm not sad.
Because while they are changing, I am too.
And I'm about to start a new adventure.
This may be my last post here, but it won't be my last post ever.
You see, I've got a new blog....to chart the next chapter in the life and times of 21st Century Mummy...except I'm changing my name... to Almost Mrs Average. In fact some of you might recognise it as my alter-ego which I've been using for some time.
So I'd like to thank you all for sticking around over the last few years and joining in the tears and the laughter. In this very short time many of you have become really good friends and I have truly appreciated your company. I just hope you will follow me to my new blog, where I promise there'll be lots more fun.
Here's a glimpse of what you can expect. Just click on the image and come and say hello.
Remember, it's not really goodbye. It's just au revoir. xxx
Hope to see you soon at www.donttearyourhairout.com.
Monday, February 09, 2009
This is a peculiar post to write.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
So here it goes. Feeling in a muddle this morning and not in the mood to write or indeed do the housework, I grabbed a cup of tea and flicked on the TV. . .to indulge in a little bit of This Morning.
I am now in tears...
...because what I didn't expect when I switched on the television just now was to be transported back to my four-year-old self - to the moment I'd been told that my dad had died in a traffic accident.
It all came flooding back and I am now sat at the laptop with my fingers tripping over themselves, trying to pour out all the words I can, but not really knowing what I want to say. The sense of childhood disbelief, and the desparate longing for it not to be true. The thoughts that perhaps he had just run away, or had simply forgotten his way home are as fresh as they once were. Anything to see Daddy again.
But he didn't come back.
And after he'd gone, there were the tears.
My mother's tears and her sobbing. Why couldn't I make her better? Why couldn't I make her smile again?
I wanted her to be happy. I wanted us all to be happy, her, me and my little sister. But most of all I wanted Daddy to come home.
But he was never coming home.
That's what death meant.
The one thing that defeats hope!
And then there was school, where everyone else had a daddy, who did daddy things on birthdays, Christmas and just normal everyday occurences like visiting the playground.
So what's a 40 year old woman doing, getting upset over something that happened 36 years ago?
You'd think that after all this time, I'd have got over it wouldn't you? I know a death is hard to take, but we're talking decades of having lived with it.
But maybe I have never really got over my grief. I still miss my dad. I missed him when I was growing up. I missed him at my wedding and I miss him being a grandfather to our small children. I have a step dad but a step dad is different.
And I dread the same thing happening to our small family.
But the tears that are flooding over my laptop today are not just tears of sadness. They are also tears of hope, because when I switched on the television this morning, the most wonderful woman was being interviewed, Jude Coupland, who two years ago lost her partner and father to her four children. Another family who had to cope with childhood bereavement.
Nobody bereaved in such a way can know how to deal with things, but Jude's story is highly uplifting. She was so inspired by the wonderful way in which her children dealt with the news and spoke openly about their daddy after his death, that she has written a book that can now help other families.
Called My Dad has Wings, it is full of gorgeous illustrations that can't help but raise a smile and a chuckle, the kind of things that a child needs to lift their spirits when dealing with the tough times.
So if you know of anyone who has experienced a sudden loss of a parent in the family, please tell them about this book. It can be found at www.mydadhaswings.co.uk. And it's not just for little children...I think I know a big kid who might find it useful too.