My Mum Is Aging, And I’m Terrified

DigitalFabiani / (Shutterstock.com)
DigitalFabiani / (Shutterstock.com)

I am 21. I live at home with my Mum and Dad. I have a good job, a nice car, and a lovely collection of handbags. Am I ready to fly the nest? Absolutely not.

I have had a tough life; I’ve been through a hell of a lot of shit in the past 21 years, and the ONLY person who has been there for me since day one is my Mum.

She is my world. She came from a very poor background, and she grew up as the youngest of 9. Mum decided from the day her dad died when she was 14 that she was going to make something of herself. Mum left school and had to get a job to help pay the bills. She moved out at 18, married at 23, and had me at 25. She was living in a semi-detached house when my biological father cheated on her. A few years later she met my “Dad,” someone who was also plodding along with life.

That’s not what they wanted; they wanted to make it big. When I was 11, they set up their own company. After a few tough years of no money and lots of hard work, it took off. I was the “rich kid” at school. I hated it. I didn’t want to stand out with my brand-new shoes and schoolbag. I used to give everything away. If I was generous and rich, that’d be fine, right? Wrong.

I’m 21 now; I have the most amazing boyfriend who I love more than I ever imagined I could love anyone. I had an argument with him a couple of days ago, something petty that was quickly resolved. But the first person I turned to was my Mum, my rock.

Lying on the sofa with her, holding her hand. I realized they were old. She has 47 years of life in those hands, 21 years of bringing up her baby, holding my hand on my first day of school. Holding my hand through doctors’ appointments, holding my hair back when I was 14 and blind drunk.

My Mum is getting old. I’m not going to have her for the rest of my life. One day I’ll have to plan her funeral. I realized I’ve been too busy growing up to see the wrinkles developing around my Mum’s perfect smile. I want to give her grandchildren to play with; I want to give her a son-in-law to see. I want to make my Mum proud—not proud of how much money I’m earning, but proud of me. I want to make her proud of who I’ve become and how happy I am.

My goal is that in the next ten years, I will have my Mum and Dad over to MY house for a Christmas dinner that I have cooked. I want to see them playing with my children, opening wild amounts of cheap tat that they’ve brought them.

Mum, I love you. You are my world. I hope I can be all that you’ve wished for one day. TC mark

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