The Boy Who Always Visited His Mother
Diary entry
When I was ten years old, I lost my mother. Mum and I were inseparable. Every day after school, Id come home and we would chat for hours on end. Whenever I came back with a poor mark from class or had a row with my mates, Id run to Mum, pouring out my troubles. Her gentle voice and warm embrace always managed to soothe me. Somehow, she always had the right words, and after talking to her, Id feel my worries melt away as she held me to her chest until I could finally smile again. She was my comfort in those difficult moments.
But for a while now, she had been battling a terrible illness. Each day, she grew weaker, and within a few short months, she was gone. Even though wed talked about it, and shed done her best to prepare me, nothing made her absence less painful. I felt so aloneDad was always at work, and the house was unbearably empty.
It was a few weeks after the funeral that Dad managed to take a few days off work. He came home early, looking pleased that hed have a proper bit of time with me, which we both desperately needed. But when he called out for me, I was nowhere to be found. He searched the house top to bottom, but Id vanished. In a mild panic, he went out in front of our block of flats in Oxford. Some neighbours were sat on the bench nearby.
Good afternoon! Have you seen Edward about? Hes not in the house.
Oh, good afternoon! Well, from what Ive seen, the past few weeks he comes back from school, stays home for a short while, then heads off again. He always returns around tea time. Hes always alone, thoughwere not sure where he goes.
Thank you, Dad said, his concern written all over his face. He blamed himself for not being able to take more time off. He knew how deeply I was struggling, but he couldnt afford to lose his job; we depended on his wages to keep us afloat. His mind churned with worrywhat if Id fallen in with a rough crowd, or ended up somewhere unsafe? Wandering the street with no idea where to look, he was startled outside the corner shop when a clear voice piped up:
Good afternoon, Mr Parker!
Hello, Emily! How are you? Have you seen Edward? Hes not at home, and Ive no idea where hes disappeared to.
Yes, sir! I know where he is. One day at school, I saw Edward sitting on his own outside on a bench by the playground, looking ever so sad. We all know he loves football, so I wondered what was wrong. He told me about his mum Emilys eyes welled up as she spoke. He said that every day after school, he goes to visit her grave. He sits on the bench there to do his homework, if its nice outside. He says that being at home without her just feels empty. Hes lonely… She glanced down the road. Sorry, Mr Parker, but my mums calling me. Goodbye!
As Dad listened to Emily, he covered his eyes for a moment, fighting tears. He missed my mum desperately but felt crushed by guilt for the extra hours at work. Keeping his gaze to the ground, he walked towards the cemetery. Thankfully, it was only a ten-minute stroll from our flat.
Inside, a gentle breeze rustled the trees, and the stillness was almost tangible. If only there wasnt so much pain in that peace. Dad noticed a familiar figure sat on a bench in the distance, near Mums graveit had to be me. As he approached, he overheard me:
I got a C today in science. Its in the report book. I know I shouldve done better. Ill try harder next time. And you always told me not to rush my tests…
And the older boysMum, they laughed at me! Said I cried like a girl and was weak cause I wouldnt play football with them. They dont know how sad I am, but it really got to me. I wish you were here. When youd hug me, everything felt a bit better. Oh Mum, I miss you so much
I broke down in tears at that moment, and Dad came over right then. I saw him, and without a word we hugged, both of us crying into each others shoulders.
I know, Edward, I know how much you miss her. Its not fair she was taken from us so soon.
I just feel so alone, Dad! I wish she was here still! Why did she have to be the one to go? Other kids in my class have their mumswhy dont I? Why me? She was so lovely! I sobbed.
Once my tears slowed, we both sat quietly on the bench, sharing memories of happier times. We even managed a few smiles at some old family jokes. From that day on, Dad gave up his overtime, even though it meant having less money in pounds, so we could spend more time together. We often visited Mums grave to leave flowers, but on other days we wandered through the park, treated ourselves to ice cream, or went to the theatre or a concert. Slowly, our bond deepened, and we realised we only had each other nowand only together could we move through our sadness.
In the stillness of the cemetery, in one of our lowest moments, Dad and I discovered how powerful love and memories can be for healing. The pain of losing Mum will never really fade, but in that tear-stained hug, we began to see that our love for her endures, bridging us together in ways that death cant break.
Sometimes life forces us to press on, even through thick fogs of grief, but it also gives us the chance to rediscover the beauty in our closest relationships, to make new memories. In those momentsat Mums grave or just strolling in the sunshineDad and I started to build a new world, based, more than ever, on understanding and kindness, learning to treasure every single moment we had together.
Writing all this down, I realise now: No matter how dark things get after a loss, there is always a glimmer of hope, and love never really dies.
