My mum is dead.

She died a few minutes after 10 this morning. She shouldn’t have. It’s her birthday today. She is 60. She shouldn’t have even been in hospital. If she hadn’t fallen after midnight on Saturday, she’d still be here. She should still be saying “please, please, please”, or “yes, no!”, or “No, yes!”; “I am!”; “thank you, thank you very much” and laughing loudly and driving us slightly potty. Now I’ll never get any of that again. I’ll never get to talk to her again. I’ll never get to share anything with her again. I’ll never hug her again. 

I miss her.