Happy Mothers’ Day everybody! I hope all of the mothers reading have been well and truly spoiled. As you’ve probably guessed, today’s blog will largely be dedicated to the greatest person in the world as far as I’m concerned: my mum.
Like most little girls, my mum is the most important person in my life. She’s been my teacher, my doctor, my councillor, my dance partner and my best friend. She taught me that the best thing to be when you grow up is happy. She taught me how to mix a mean French Martini. She taught me that no matter how bad things get, life always looks a little brighter after a danceathon. I’m not going to say that she’s my whole world, but she’s a big, big chunk of it. Like Africa or something.
I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost her. Happy Mothers’ Day, mum. I love you.
It’s actually not just my mum who I want to talk about this Mothers’ Day. A few of you might remember my back sign from last year’s Race:
What most of you probably won’t know, is that my dad was one of those kids. He lost his mum to breast cancer, not too long after I was born.
Cancer took her away before I got a chance to know her any better than this. It’s because of cancer that all I have of my granny is flowers, butterflies and a little diamond.
It’s because of cancer that my dad doesn’t have a mum to spoil this Mothers’ Day. I want to make sure that no mother has to sit down her children and tell them she has cancer. I want to make it so that everyone gets to keep their mum around until they are old and grey. I want every grandmother to be able to see her grandaughters grow up. I know she’d be proud, but it’s cancer’s fault that she can’t tell me that herself. That she has to send down little flurries of snow to say hello instead of picking up the phone.
Please give all that you can this Mothers’ Day. Together we will beat cancer.
*UPDATE at 5pm, just another example of my mum kicking ass: