One Year

One year since the phone rang at 1am, just as we were going to bed.

One year since a nurse told me, with classic British understatement, that my mother had “taken a bit of a turn for the worse.”

One year since a 3am taxi ride through deserted Liverpool streets.

One year since I held my mother’s hand through latex gloves as she gasped for air.

One year since I told her that I loved her, despite not being entirely sure that she could understand me.

One year since that second phone call, after a couple of hours of dreamless sleep. The phone call that I didn’t want to answer, because I knew what news was waiting for me when I did.

One year.

If there is one thing above all else that still pains me, it’s that I never got to say a proper goodbye. I imagined one last heartfelt conversation, a chance to say what needed to be said. It never happened.

Say the things you need to say, to the people you need to say them to, and do it before it’s too late.

Charity begins at the home page

My birthday is approaching and, in lieu of any gifts, I am asking for donations to the Amyloidosis Research Fund.

In April 2020 my entire family was devastated by the loss of my mum, Dot Hampton. Her death has left a massive gap in all our lives, and the pain and grief are still very real, nearly five months later.

Robert with his Mum

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Mum

Photo of my Mum

Today we held the funeral for my Mum, who passed away two weeks ago after contracting Covid-19. She was 72, which is far, far too young for this to happen. To say I am devastated is an understatement. Her death has left a hole in my life that can never be properly filled.

I don’t often share personal stuff on this blog, but I need people to know what a wonderful person she was, and what she meant to me. So here goes, with a blog post I never wanted to write…

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