Chapter 69
Andrea: Y is for Yesterday
Hello my darlings – Mother here! This will be my last note, so I’ll try and make it a good one. My pain levels are under control right now, which makes everything easier, doesn’t it? I can only hope that yours are under control as well. At least I have morphine, darlings – you only have gin!
Yesterday, I spent most of the afternoon making a glittery dice with the names of movies on the side. I hope you enjoyed that game, and cheated as many times as it took until you got X-Men. I would expect nothing less, and would have done the same myself. Hugh Jackman, yum.
Yesterday, I also had a visit from a frightfully handsome young doctor from Ghana. Lovely man, though sadly not a miracle worker.
Yesterday, I threw caution to the wind and had lime jelly instead of strawberry – I know, I know, how crazy of me!
And yesterday, after I’d done my dice, Lewis took me out in my wheelchair for a little walk.
We didn’t go far – just to the park – but it was wonderful to feel the sun on my skin, and see the beautiful weeping willow trees draped over the grass, and to listen to the children playing on the swings.
He brought Betty, and we had a good old slobbery cuddle. Darling dog.
So, all things considered, not a bad yesterday at all. But now, it’s gone – and a new day has started. The possibilities are … well, I’d like to say endless, but as I’m on a drip and wearing a nightie right now, maybe not!
The point, though, remains the same – our yesterdays make us who we are, but our tomorrows make us who we will become.
That sounds suitably wise, and is my way of saying – girls, are you ready to say goodbye to yesterday?
Are you ready to throw out the rubbish, to leave all of the pain and misery behind? Are you ready to move on?
My goodness, how I hope so. I hope that you have forgiven each other, and forgiven yourselves.
If you have, then say so – because just thinking it doesn’t count.
Look each other in the eye, and say goodbye to those nasty old yesterdays.
Do it for yourselves, if not for me. And, while you’re at it, get rid of something else – those horrible guilt lists I asked you to write, what feels like an age ago now.
The only reason I asked you to write them down was so that you could throw them away.
And when you’re done with that, the package contains a little gift for you.
It’s a collection of some of my diaries, from over the years.
I always wanted to be a good journal keeper, but never really had the self-discipline, so I was always a little hit or miss.
There are some years where I write most days, others where there are only a couple of entries.
Some are funny, some are sad, and some, I am horrified to say, are just plain boring. These diaries are not for you to read now – now is the time to focus on your own lives. They’re for the future. For when you need to feel me close, and can’t pick up the phone.
For when you find yourself in a situation and wonder what I’d think … well, I can’t guarantee the answers will be in there, but at least something will be in there. Even if it is just me mooning over Ian McShane or complaining about the short shelf life of goldfish.
The diaries are a little bit of me, for you two to keep forever. I hope they bring you some pleasure, some comfort, and some consolation – I may not be there in person, but I can at least be on your bookshelves!
Anyway, as I said, I had a busy day yesterday, and am feeling a snooze coming on. Morphine, delicious as it is, doesn’t make extensive periods of lucidity especially easy. Enjoy the diaries, girls – and don’t forget. Talk to each other.
With love, as always,
Mum xxx