On the day I found out my dad had a year to live, I was standing at work, typing away stupidly about something I can’t remember now. And in an instant, I was catapulted into a terrible grief I knew nothing about. Like a dark room I’d never entered, feeling my way around. Gemma called my boss, my colleagues, and my best friends. Ordering one to give me time off, to get coffee, and to buy moving boxes. In the apartment, I couldn’t even remember my own name. Gemma found my passport, called my sister and arranged a pick up, and booked my flight for the next morning. Early but not too early, because she said I needed sleep. How do I even begin to pack right now? Gemma told everyone what to do. She put on my favourite songs, Taylor Swift, whom she didn’t particularly care for, and made the executive decision to toss my near-empty shampoo bottles. We walked through a handful of outfits I’d need - certainly comfy ones - as Gemma proposed. And when I’d come back to collect my t...
To my mom on Mother’s Day, There’s a lot of days that I like to celebrate you. Your birthday, spoiling you on Christmas, when you got the promotion you wanted so badly. I like to think we do our best to celebrate you every day. Some days are different. Some days don’t feel like a celebration for you. But today, on top of all others, I want to take this time to say a few words of celebration, to honour the incredible woman you are. You are so many things. You are the strongest, most courageous woman in the world. You would walk to the ends of the earth for everyone you know. You would defend anyone’s honour. You have an amazing knack for making everyone in your life feel like the most important person to you. I don’t know if you know this, but dad tells me all the time how I “should try to be more like mom,” and to me, that means I should be more welcoming to people, let them in with open arms. I should always, ALWAYS find the good in someone. I should learn to cook l...