Dear Mummy,
Tomorrow is that time of year again, Manchester Pride. We always joked around about how you would be turning up in a float, this year I will look out for you. Every year we talked about what marvellous sights I had seen and who everyone got up to. I will miss telling you all the stories this year. It will be odd not being able to lift the phone when I’m feeling that little bit worse for wear and you consoling me wit the fact that I would be right as rain the next day. This year will be odd as usually we don’t talk much over pride as I’m too busy socialising with my friends. Funny how this year you will be on my mind a lot. I will want that phone call that we rarely had over pride.
You always told me to take loads of photos and being the poor son I was I usually neglected to do so. I remember how it gave you so much joy to see me out enjoying myself. If I had the chance I would gladly swap it all for a nice evening with you in front of the television while you watch your favourite soaps. You and I could sit there in silence just content in each others company night after night. We didn’t have to fill the silences as we were both just comforted by the other being there. I would ask the odd question about who that one was, or who was she related to. You would look at me trying to hide your frustration as you just wanted to watch your programmes. You never let it show, you would calmly sit there and tell me who each person was as I bombarded you with 20 questions, one after the other.
I think this year I will find myself finding a quiet moment to have a little glass of red. I will look up and think of you in that moment. Surrounded by all the noise and music. I will think of you as I sip my little glass of red, just for you. You never made it to pride but hopefully this year you will see it in all its glory.
Missing you always
Peanut xx
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 