Sixty Eight

Another year rolls around and my mum’s birthday is here again. She would have been 68 today.

15 days ago, her 4th grandchild, my son, Holden, was born, so this is a bittersweet day – I am over the moon with his arrival in my life, but sad that he will never get to meet his Grandma. Of course I will tell him all about her and show him pictures and let him know that she would have loved him dearly and doted on him like she did with her other grandchildren.

I spent a lot of time looking through old photographs, I see my grandparents and aunts and uncles who are not around any more, some of which I have little or no memory of, but still feel love for, and I feel like there is a gap left where they would have fit into my life.

I look at my boy and I see my mother in his eyes, maybe that is just wishful thinking, but somehow it feels like there is a piece of her still here now with me.

As generations come and go, they will always be connected. I am going to knock a gin back and remember with a smile and a tear.


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