The littlest woman -Jenny my Mum

Today January 6th is the 14th year that I’ve been without my mum. Vibrant, funny and a hard case she left this earth at a young age of 65. Women’s little Christmas is always a little poignant for this reason. My mum was at not quite five foot a little woman. With a big bold personality, and it’s strange to think that I’ve lived most of my adult life without her.

I was 21 when she died, still full of the angst of a young adult. She was taken suddenly on the end. But I expected it from a young age. She’d been poorly whole life. I remember watching her apply make up, bringing me in to Cashs to look at make up. I remember her bringing me to get my legs waxed and eyebrows shaped. Her advice stayed with me, ” don’t do your own brows Mary, you will make a balls of them” . Wise words indeed.

I had a conversation recently with my brother about where we were in our lives and how proud she would have been. Everyone that speaks of her has fond and funny memories.

Jenny wherever you are I just want you to know you rock. I’m sad that you never met Mr Glamity , that you never saw me fulfil the dream of writing that I had as a young one… You see Mum all the time spent reading, nose stuck in a book was leading me somewhere. That you won’t have seen me doing make up demos or dancing at my wedding. That you weren’t there when I lost what I wanted so much. That you couldn’t make it better like you did when I got the worst case of head lice in Ireland with a week to Barry’s wedding when I was five. You were a hard task master. Made me appreciate everything. Showed me how to be independent and strong .We also fought like cat and dog. That’s how it was.

I’m happy I met you though Mum and I’m happy you didn’t suffer too much in the end.