These last several days have been really hard. So much crying, so many pointless questions. I had tried to FaceTime you that morning but you hadn’t answered so I called the care home and spoke to a carer. You were coming out of quarantine in 2 days time - not because you had covid, but because new residents had to have 2 weeks in isolation before they could meet other residents - and I talked to her about how we could finally come and see you. When I got the call in the afternoon I didn’t really understand what I was being told. I remember thinking I was being told I could come and see you sooner than expected. I remember beginning to grasp what was being said, I remember finally yelling ‘I don’t want to see my mum dead, I wanted to see her alive!’ Then I hit the floor and David took the phone from me because I couldn’t speak for pain.
I know the moves from hospital first to one care home then to another had been hard for you. We had spoken so often, even though we weren’t allowed to see you. We had visited both homes so often to bring you things, and I would look up at the windows trying to imagine where you were, waving in case you could see me. We weren’t allowed to see you, but I wanted you to know, to see, we were there. You weren’t alone. At the second home I facetimed you while we were there one time, and took you on a virtual walk to see the park behind the home, and found the tree you could see from your window with the squirrels in it. We counted the big branches to be sure it was the right one. We weren’t allowed to see you, but I wanted to show you where you were, to show you we were there with you, even if you couldn’t see us. I didn’t want you to feel alone, lonely, surrounded by people you didn’t know in a room you weren’t allowed out of because of quarantine rules.
You loved company, to chat and to laugh - you were always so interested in everything that was going on - I hated that you had spent 2 weeks in isolation in one home and were then immediately moved to the next one and were put in isolation for another 2 weeks. I know how hard that was for you, how lonely you were. We called you so often to remind you how soon we would be able to see you, to put up your pictures, to change your curtains, to sit and have cups of tea and laugh about it all. And then you died, before we could do any of that. And I am left wanting to tell you I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I miss you, and all the things we will never do together now.
We emptied your old flat, which was so painful, and took back your car, which you had for only a month. We came and picked up all the things we had taken to try and help you feel at least a little at home. My world has altered. My days are not the same. We don’t talk, I don’t see your face on my screen when we FaceTime, I don’t see your smile and happy ‘oh hello’ when we come to see you. You are nowhere now. I look at photos of you, especially the ‘live’ ones where I see you laugh or catch a shred of your voice before it cuts out, and they are just a reminder that you are gone. I miss you mum, and I’m so sorry💔
Sorry for ramblings it’s just so hard
