September has always been my favourite month, it may due to having been born in this month, but I have always loved it. The weather changes and the air becomes more crisp, with the leaves changing colour before falling from the trees, and we get ready to brace the colder winter weather.
September is no longer my favourite month, its the month that I had to say goodbye to Milly. No parent should ever have to even consider this for a second, but from the moment Milly was diagnosed, I knew it was a possibility. I tried to absorb every little thing that we did from that moment on, I filed conversations away in my head, to revisit at a later date. I took countless pictures and videos of her, desperate to hold onto every single moment.
When we were told Milly had relapsed and the options were limited, it was after returning from her open day at St Augustine’s – Milly was so excited – the thought of going to high school had been a huge focus during all her treatment, her chemotherapy, her scans, xrays, blood samples, blood and platelet transfusions, and her bone marrow transplant. We returned from school on a high with everything to look forward to for Milly, until I got the voicemail on my phone from her consultant. From that moment everything changed.
And now four years later, the pain…the loss…her absence from every part of my life is still felt so intensely…it hurts, it hurts a lot, my heart feels like it is breaking every single day.
I know if Milly knew how hard it was living without her she would be apologising to me for having to leave and go to heaven…Milly always worried about me, about how I was coping whilst she was going through her treatment. I remember saying to her that I wished it was me that this was happening to, she told me she would have hated to see me so unwell and it was better that it was happening to her.
I would have done absolutely anything and everything to trade places with Milly. In a heartbeat. One million times over. But I just wasn’t given that chance, or choice.
I know Milly’s love continues to surround me, she keeps me strong, and my love for Milly, and her love for me, will never be stolen by death. It is infinite as it is powerful, it stretches past forever and remains with me for always.
I made a promise to myself when I knew that Milly would never get the chance to grow up, I promised that no one would forget her, that she would be remembered and thought about with love.
I believe that I achieve this with Milly’s Smiles, the charity gives me a purpose, I feel that I can talk about Milly in the present (and that’s a huge deal), it also means I can help other families during what will be one of the worst times of their lives, and I can do so in Milly’s name.
I feel honoured and blessed to be Milly’s mum, I had 11 and a half years with her…it wasn’t and never will be enough…she is forever loved and endlessly missed.
“I love her with the utmost love of which my soul is capable, and she was taken from me. Yet in the agony of my spirit in surrendering such a treasure, I feel a thousand times richer than if I had never possessed it”.