Twenty Years of Change

Twenty years is a long time.

So many things have happened.

So much has changed.

My three youngest children were born, and along with their two older siblings, have become the wonderful people they are today.

Ian and I got married, cementing a relationship that began when we were still in school.

Princess Diana died in that terrible Paris car crash. The princes have grown into fine men breathing new life into the royal family and a new generation of baby royals have now taken their place in the monarchy.

The Spice Girls formed and split up. Take That split up and then reformed. The Rolling Stones and Meatloaf are still going strong.

Hollywood lost Heath Ledger, River Phoenix, Christopher Reeve and Patrick Swayze way too soon.

We've seen the meteoric rise of the internet, WiFi, smartphones, smart TVs, laptops, smart watches, iPods and iPads.

Our entertainment has been dominated by Minecraft, PS3s and PS4s,World of Warcraft, X Boxes, Netflix, Sky TV, X factor, Big Brother, Pixar and GTA.

We've watched The Matrix, Avatar, Minions, Frozen, Wreck it Ralph, Twilight, The Avengers, Monsters Inc, Jurassic World - all in glorious high definition.

The Simpsons, Eastenders, Casualty and Corrie are still running, but we have said farewell to Top of the Pops, Friends and ER.

Binge watching box sets has become the thing to do. Breaking Bad, Scandal, The Walking Dead, House of Cards, Once Upon a Time and Dexter - how I have enjoyed you!

We read Kindles instead of books. Harry Potter brought magic in to the muggles' world. Fifty Shades of Grey brought erotica (albeit poorly written erotica) into the mainstream.

We have YouTube, digital photography, Google, Facebook, Instagram, Skype, Pinterest and Twitter. We are connected 24/7.

Starbucks and Costa serve us skinny decaff pumpkin spiced lattes and double shot caramel macchiatos.

The 2012 Olympics saw Team GB win golds galore as London became the place to be.

We fell in love with the Blade Runner Oscar Pistorious and were left shocked and disgusted by his violent fall from grace.

My family all became vegetarian and we've witnessed Quorn become a staple product in supermarkets. All but one of us remain true to our plant based diet.

There have been terrible wars and natural disasters, which have shaken our world to its core.

We've witnessed examples of humanity and inhumanity in equal measure.

I have become a very proud Nana and Grauntie as new babies are born into our family.

Our family has evolved as wings have been spread and good-byes have been said, but home is always where the heart is.

So much has happened. So much has changed.

And it's all gone on without you here to see it or be a part of it.

Twenty years without you.

It still hurts.

It always will.

I miss you Carol.

Still Missing You ...

Even after 19 years, not a day goes by where I don't think about you. You may be missing in our lives, but you still take up a big part of my heart.  The memories and the love live on.

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.”  ― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Remembering My Sister

I don't think that a single day has gone by when I haven't thought about my sister.  I have held tightly onto her memory, preserving forever in my mind the way she spoke, the sound of her laugh, how she felt, the heaviness of her thick hair, her sense of humour and the way she made me feel that I wanted to be exactly like her.

Today would have been her 54th birthday. Had she lived, I'm pretty sure she'd still be the same Carol that I idolised. She was the joker, the larger than life character, the life and soul of any event who had the incredible talent of making you feel like you were the important and special one.  I miss her so much that even now 18 years on, if I think about all the years spent without her, times together that have been lost, the tears come all too easily.

With every joyous celebration and with every heartbreak we have shared as a family, there has been something missing, someone missing.  That will never go away.  The empty space is ever present.

Her passing opened my eyes to the frailty of life and our own mortality.  A sobering realisation and something I found very difficult to deal with as I was pregnant at the time of her illness. Creating a new life as my sister's time on this earth ebbed away.  It was too cruel an irony.  But I went on to deliver the beautiful baby girl who took my sister's name as her own. In memory of the auntie she never had the honour of meeting or the pleasure in knowing.

I know that Carol's energy is still burning brightly. She's still here, a part of her own children and now a part of her first grandchild. I take such pleasure in that.  Holding my beautiful great nephew in my arms, I felt the connection and knew that she was there.  Part of his genetic make-up. Part of his very soul.  It is a comfort to me.

Life continues and the world keeps on spinning, but I will never, ever forget.

I'll raise a glass of red wine in your memory tonight.

I recently found this photo of myself as a baby with my big sister, in a collection of old family snaps.  I'd never seen it before and discovering it really made my day.  I love how happy I look on my big sister's lap.

Windows into Lives

The blogging community is a wonderful place.  An open and honest microcosm of society, where we all get to share our experiences with a virtual window into each others' lives.  Over the years I have been blogging I have shared the highs and lows of my life with countless others, and in return have read intimate details about other families.  We have a unique insight into each others' realities, knowing more about each other than most people in real life do.  Thoughts, hopes, dreams and fears are shared candidly. I have celebrated triumphs, laughed at tales of family antics, followed pregnancies, waited anxiously for news of births, marvelled at people's achievements and mourned losses.  I've experienced emotions as genuine and as heartfelt as any I have felt for friends in the 'real world'.

We have shared the darkest and the brightest moments of our lives across social media.  We give and receive support and regularly witness the outpouring of virtual love and sometimes derision when situations have arisen.  We empathise, sympathise and feel for each other.  This community is an extension of our real lives, a powerful force and a privilege to be a part of.

I don't have many people in my 'real world' who I can talk to, confide in, share my thoughts and feelings with.  I value this virtual community all the more for the outlet it provides me, and so many others, with.  An outlet to tell our stories.

News this weekend of the death of a beautiful 9 month old baby girl has sent shockwaves through this community.  A baby who, although we had never met, we 'knew'.  We knew her smile, we knew her playful nature and we knew the love lavished on her by her family.  We have followed the life of this child from the moment we knew her mother was pregnant.  We shared the emotions.  We followed her journey.  Now we mourn her loss.  We share the pain. My heart breaks for her family.  When news like this hits you, it puts everything into perspective.

In a community where the written word is everything, words are truly not enough at this time.  There simply are no words.

RIP Matilda Mae

Good-Bye my Friend xxx

Yesterday I heard some really sad news.  A school friend of mine had died.  He was 41 years old, a dad to two children, a Scout leader and a really nice bloke.  He died suddenly, in an as yet unexplained way.  This was such a shock to me.

We went to school together throughout the primary and secondary years.  We were good friends. He took me to my first concert that I went to (without my big sister looking after me).  We spent the day in London before going to Hammersmith Odeon to watch Marillion's Fugazi Tour.  We hung out together as teenagers going to the pub, to parties or just hanging out at friends' houses.  (Goodness knows where their parents were when we took over their living rooms.  It never occurred to me then, but now I'm puzzled?!)  Pete was always really protective of me.  We were close.

We lost touch post A'Levels as I became a mother and moved away from our hometown of Slough.  Years later, via the wonders of Friends Reunited, we got back into contact and exchanged lengthy emails filling each other in on the missing ten years, marriage, kids, jobs.  Then as Facebook became the communication media of choice, we commented on each others' photos and statuses.  His profile pic was a familiar icon in my Newsfeed.

His Facebook wall says that "Pete is attending 2013".  He joined that group showing his optimistic belief that the world won't end in 2012 whatever the Aztecs believed!  That made me cry.  He had posted on the Scout's Facebook wall to remind the boys to bring waterproofs because the weather this weekend was set to be atrocious.  He had just found out which celebrities shared his birthday.

Now suddenly he's gone.

Hearing news like this is so sobering.  It puts everything into perspective in your life.  It makes you appreciate everything you have, everyone you love.  It makes you hug your loved ones a little tighter.  It makes you promise yourself that you will overhaul your diet, your lifestyle and your fitness levels.  It reminds you just how precious life is.

So Rest in Peace my friend.  I'll listen to some Marillion in your honour and smile at our shared memories. And I'll yet again remind myself of the fragility of life so I live each day to its fullest potential and try to be the best person I can be.