The date of publication, 1st of February, is mum's birthday. How else to honour the years worth of birthdays that I'll live through where she is not here to celebrate? I began to see the world through rose coloured glasses when she passed. The perception of life transformed into something more precious, fragile. The hope that she would beat the cancer turned into a hope that I would exist; not only exist, but exist well. To do her justice.
So with that: a collection of all my writings about mum, on grief, and the perseverance of hope through words.
