Today I thought I’d share my last tribute to mum with you. A letter I wrote that was actually read out at her ‘Celebration of Life Ceremony’ last Thursday.

People don’t tend to talk about these things and believe it or not I wasn’t going to share it on here but my BF convinced me that I should.

I suppose in a way it is kind of fitting; you have shared this journey with us. You may even feel as though you knew mum from some of my stories I’ve shared.

I realise that for the past few months mum and her illness is seemingly all I have spoken about. It has in a way been like therapy for me. It’s seen me through.

While I will never ever stop talking about my beautiful mum I’m sure it will become less frequent… on here anyway.

The morning of the service itself was horrible; it rained, and rained and then some.

We woke up to no water courtesy of a burst water main , a bus jack-knived outside the house blocking our path out and then what should have been a 5 minute journey upto dads house took us over half an hour. I honestly thought we would never get there.

We did . . . JUST!

The service itself was rather beautiful and uplifting . It wasn’t religious in anyway, something we all agreed on. It’s hard to believe in ‘anything’ especially after you’ve sat and witnessed Mum suffer and deteriorate the way she did towards the end.

Music came courtesy of Richard Clayderman ‘ Ballade Pour Adeline‘ , Bruno Mars ‘Talking to the Moon‘ , Eva Cassidy ‘Over the Rainbow‘ and D-Side ‘Real World‘

There was a very fitting poem ‘She is Gone’ with lots of time to reflect.

The rain even stopped.

So here goes . . .

Dear Mum,

On July 10th at 3.25pm you left us – after a long , brave fight you eventually let go. I was there by your side with dad, somewhere I feel I’ve always been.

At that precise moment my world turned upside down…

This letter is something I never thought I’d be writing, not so soon anyway. I write most days yet today I’m struggling to find the words.

Thankyou for being the most amazing mum. THE BEST. You made it so easy to love you . I suppose that’s why it’s so extremely hard to let go, to say goodbye.

Goodbye is so final and I’m not ready.

Thankyou for encouraging me . For believing in me when even I didn’t. For making me strong enough to handle anything life threw at me … including your death.

During one of our last conversations you said how proud you were of your beautiful, brave girl. How much I’d grown up the last few months. That I had this.

Thankyou for the laughter.

Boy did we laugh.

Nobody pulls better daft faces at the most inappropriate times than you do. Dad often said we could communicate without words. Why talk when you could just pull a face?

Remember the first time we met one of Marks new girlfriends … we went out for a posh meal. When they both disappeared for a smoke you and I decided to stick orange peel skins in our mouths. We were in hysterics trying to get the bloody things to stay in. It didnt help we were both so toothy! When they returned we gave them our biggest , brightest orange peel smiles.

Or the first time we tootled off on an adventure to Matalan. We parked the car up in Bay 5… or so we thought. Happens it was actually the speed limit . There were bloody 5 signs everywhere. It took us forever to find our car that day.

That was just us …

THANKYOU FOR …

‘Sausage Sandwich Fridays’ while watching Crack a Jack.

For amazing holidays in The South of France. Highlights being Mario the Italian Stallion, Simon Arness, Metholiptus drinks , the ‘Torch Awards’, Marks imaginary friend Scratch and you being attacked by bats.

For traumatising Mark and I with the slipper monster !

For the Sunday morning ‘ Barry Manilow while hoovering‘ wake up calls.

For introducing me to the joy of musicals and fancy dress.

For our daft dancing sessions in the kitchen…

I’m smiling now as I remember Mark break-dancing on the living room floor [ well he was squirming around doing something ] and our feeble attempts at Micheal Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ routine.

You made sure that life at the Herring House hold was anything but dull.

Mum, I know you’ll always be around in spirit however nothing will ever compare to one of your cuddles, to hear you laughing , or our Saturday morning coffee and a catch up. Just spending time with you .

I miss you terribly already.

The only comfort I can take from all this is you lived an extremely full and happy life. Some people live a lifetime and just exist. You lived and you were loved. Not just by Dad , Mark and I . You were loved by everybody who had the pleasure to met you .

You were very special, one of a kind. As you would say ‘ a bloody good egg’

Everybody loved Peggy & I was and will always be so proud to call you my mum.

Finally … you said you didn’t want anybody to be sad today. You loved a good party and you wanted us all to celebrate you and your life .

You asked me to ensure that you got a good and fitting send off – So I’m asking that everybody here today raises a glass or two of Gin & Tonic later. To take a moment , to reflect and be happy in their memories of you.

Happy tears you said … nothing but happy tears for Peggy Herring.

So I’ll not say goodbye just yet mum , it’s far too final.

I’ll say let’s talk later…

Love you to the the Moon and back , always & forever ,

Tracey xx