This is something I am going to get counselling for but I'm feeling so many overwhelming regrets right now that it's destroying me inside. My Mum asked what I was going to say at her funeral, I didn't know and I was trying not to cry so I just said "maybe I'll tell a funny story" and she said "of course sweetie, you don't have to think about it now" – she died the next day.
Why didn't I tell her the truth? That I was going to stand up there in front of hundreds of people who all adored her and tell them about how much of an amazing mother she was? That would have been so comforting for her. I said so much to her before she passed, I said "I love you" so many times, I thanked her for everything, I said that everything she'd done for us was like one giant love letter, but it still doesn't come close to explaining the depth of my love and gratefulness and admiration and respect and just pure, pure, unfaltering love.
It will never be enough, will it? There will never be "enough" anything, because she's gone. I thought I would have all the time in the world to pay her back for everything she did for me, I wanted to spoil her, take her on holiday, give her beautiful grandchildren, surprise her with thoughtful gifts, have a million more funny phonecalls and dinners and late night chats, to share exciting news about marriage and jobs and houses and babies and to tell her gossip and show her all my new outfits and see musicals together. I wanted to look through old photos and listen to funny anecdotes and see her find love again and try new things and go to new places on holiday and do things she always dreamed of doing, while we all cheered her on.
I was so busy living my life while she had cancer that I didn't spend anywhere near enough time with her. She wanted everything to be so normal but I kept pretending we had all the time in the world, and I hate myself for that. The only person who could ever really, truly reassure me when something was wrong was her, and now I feel like I'm never going to be certain of anything again. I wasn't the daughter she deserved.