I called out the window, Mum, what are you doing up so early? Youll catch your death! She turned around, waving her shovel in greeting, Doing it for you lot, the lazybones! The next day, Mum was gone.
Even now, I cant walk past our garden gate without my heart twisting painfully. Every time I see that little path, it feels as though someone tightens their grip around my chest. I took that photo on the second of January I was just walking by, noticed footprints in the fresh snow, and stopped. I took a picture, not even knowing why at the time. Now its the only piece I have left from those days.
We celebrated New Years together as we always didjust our family. From the crack of dawn on New Years Eve, Mum was on her feet. I woke to the smell of frying burgers and her voice drifting in from the kitchen.
Hannah, get up, love! I need help with the salads, or your dad will pinch all the ingredients when Im not looking!
Still in my pyjamas, hair all wild, I shuffled into the kitchen. She stood at the hob wearing her favourite apron with peaches on itthe one Id given her when I was in school. Her cheeks were pink from the oven heat, her smile was bright.
Mum, please, just let me have my coffee first, I grumbled.
Coffee later, potato salad first! she laughed, tossing me a bowl of roast veg. Chop it nice and smalldont go making bricks like last time!
We chopped together, chatting about everything and nothing. Mum told stories about her childhood New Yearsno fancy salads, just herring under a fur coat and mandarin oranges her dad brought home from the warehouse.
Dad arrived with the Christmas treea huge thing, almost scraping the ceiling.
Right then ladies, feast your eyes on this beauty! he declared with a grin.
Good grief, Dad, have you cleared out half the forest? I gasped.
Mum looked it over, hands on hips. Its stunning, but where will we put it? Last years was at least a bit smaller. But she helped us anyway. My little sister Emily and I strung up the fairy lights, while Mum dug out the old baubles from when I was small. I remember her picking out a delicate glass angel, whispering, I bought this for your very first Christmas, do you remember?
I do, Mum, I lied. I didnt, but nodded anyway. The way she beamed, youd think I really had remembered that tiny angel.
My brother arrived that night, loud as ever, arms full of shopping bags, presents, and fizz.
Ive got decent champagne this time, Mum! None of last years cheap stuff!
Just so long as nobody goes overboard! Mum laughed, wrapping him in a hug.
At midnight, we all went out to the garden. Dad and my brother set off fireworks, Emily squealed with delight, and Mum stood by my side, squeezing my shoulders tight.
Look, love, isnt it beautiful? she whispered. Were so lucky to have this life
I hugged her back. We have the best life, Mum.
We passed the champagne bottle round, roaring with laughter as a rogue firework shot behind the neighbours shed. Mum, a little tipsy, danced about in her slippers to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, and Dad swept her off her feet. We laughed ourselves hoarse.
New Years Day, we lazed about. Mum cooked againthis time, dumplings and jellied meat.
Mum, we cant eat any more! I protested. Were going to burst!
Nonsense! The New Years not over in a day, she waved me off.
On the 2nd of January, she was up early again, as always. I heard the front door slam, glanced outthere she was, in the garden, shovelling snow. Old puffy coat, scarf tied on her head. She was so precise: clearing a narrow path from the gate to the front step, piling snow to the side as she liked.
I shouted from the window, Mum, why so early? Youll freeze out there!
She turned, waved her shovel, If I dont, you lot will traipse through the snowdrifts til May. Go on, put the kettle on.
I smiled and wandered back to the kitchen. She joined me half an hour later, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling.
All sorted now, she said, sitting down with her coffee. Nice job, wasnt it?
Perfect, Mum. Thank you.
That was the last time I heard her voice so lively.
The next morning, on the 3rd, she woke up quietly, saying, Girls, Ive got a funny pain in my chest. Not bad, just a bit off.
I panicked, Mum, lets ring for an ambulance?
Oh, dont fuss, Hannah. Im just worn out with all that cooking and running round. Ill be fine after a lie down.
She rested on the sofa, Emily and I sat nearby. Dad had popped out for some medicine. Mum still joked, Dont look so grim, you twoIll outlive the lot of you!
Then she suddenly went pale, pressing her chest.
Oh I dont feel well at all really not well
We called the ambulance, I held her hand, whispering, Please hold on, Mum, helps coming, itll be alright She looked at me and said barely above a whisper,
Hannah I love you all so much I dont want to say goodbye.
The paramedics came quicklybut there was nothing more they could do. A massive heart attack. It happened in minutes.
I sat collapsed on the hallway floor, howling. I couldnt take it in. Yesterday shed been dancing under fireworks, laughingnow
Barely able to stand, I wandered outside. Snow had fallen gently. I saw her footprints. The same neat, careful onesgate to step and back. Just how she always left them.
I stared for ages. And asked God, How can it be? Yesterday she walked here and left these tracks, and today shes gone? The prints are here, but she isnt.
It seemed to me shed come out on the 2nd for the last timejust to clear us a path, so we could walk it without her.
I didnt let anyone sweep the footprints away, and I asked everyone to leave them be. Let them stay, I said, until the snow finally covers them over for good.
That was the last thing Mum did for us. Her ordinary caring showed itself even after she was gone.
A week later, a heavy snowstorm buried everything.
I keep that photo of Mums last footprints. Every 3rd of January, I look at it, and then I look at the empty path outside our house. And it hurtsknowing that, somewhere beneath the snow, she left her last steps for me to follow.
Steps Im still following, even now.
