sewing and sheet glass windows

I feel keenly how she was a significant thread in the tapestry of my life, and now the thread has run out, it’s so hard to gather in the others to fill that empty fabric. Hard and exhausting, and how much easier would it be to just… not. To let her absence remain an empty space in my life, to elect not to put effort into something that hurts. Why not?

Because she’d hate that. And doing things she would hate feels like unpicking her threads.

The run-up to Mother’s Day is hell this year. We didn’t even really celebrate it, because one day to mark the impact of a parent is an insult, but still. Being confronted with adverts and cards and gifts for a person who no longer exists is just awful. I have managed to avoid breaking down in public, so far, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to set fire to every card shop I see. Or actually

Once upon a time, Mum and I mused about how satisfying it would be to throw a brick through a sheet glass window. She’d always wanted to, she said, but of course never would. But imagine the sound, the almost-liquid shatter… mmmm.

Is ‘I was just tidying up the loose ends of my mother’s threads, Your Honour’ acceptable defence in a court of law when called to explain the fact that every Clintons store in the county has been mysteriously de-glassed?


Well, they’re all reinforced now, aren’t they? Reinforced against Dangerous and Violent people, like gang members, and drug addicts, and grieving people with Emotions.

Don’t worry, society. Your barriers are safe. My pain will not inconvenience you.