Sharing our stories of grief

On Grief Awareness Day, Charlotte Todd , our Property Services Director, shares her experience of losing her mum to cancer:

“I lost my mum to breast cancer almost 16 years ago this October, when I was 21 and she was 47. It still affects me to this day, but now I know when I need to see my counsellor.

“It hit me again this February, and I was immediately back on sertraline and to counselling, which culminated in me writing a letter to my mum. It was a painful two hours but it gave me such relief. I can now forgive myself for all the things I wish I had done and said in my teenage years when we were dealing with it all.”

Charlotte’s letter to her mum:

Mum,

I don't know where to begin, really – maybe firstly with a thank you! I know I wasn’t the easiest of teenagers and I questioned everything you did for me, but I now know that what you aspired to do was to create a strong, independent woman who could stand on her own two feet and enjoy life to its fullest. I perhaps understand that now more than ever. If you hadn’t instilled those values in me, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today – and instilling those very same values in my son. I know that would make you proud!

I wish you could see everything I have become because I know you would be so proud! Turns out you were right to send Dad up to the council with my CV and push me to get my first job – I talk about that story to people all the time! After leaving Orbit, I went on to be a manager and now have my first jobs as a director! It’s ridiculous!

I've spent so many years reflecting on the daughter I was to you when you were ill, and I’m so ashamed that I wasn’t strong enough to be able to face up to what was happening and be of support to you. For me, the easy thing to do when things were too hard was pretend that it wasn't truly happening. I wish I would have taken you to the hospital; I wish I was sat there holding your hand whilst you had your chemotherapy; I wish I had laid in bed with you at night, stroking your head until you went to sleep to show you the love I truly felt for you and making you feel like you had someone there that cared for you – I did! I just couldn’t face the reality of accepting what was happening and felt the only way for me to survive was to put my head down and get on with normal life.

On what planet did I think it was ok to go to college knowing that you were so unwell in the hospice? But I know you would have thought that was right – education and career first!! The truth is that I could not face up to the reality that I was losing you. I look back and laugh now at how ridiculous it was to think that you would come out of the hospice, have some miracle cure and everything would be ok! It seems so ridiculous to say it now, still being able to hear the way you were struggling to breathe in the hospice, but I felt that all I could do to get through what I was seeing was to believe that it would all magically go away.

I remember so clearly the day I took you out to lunch. We went to The Ship Inn in Levington and we had a roast dinner and I paid because I’d just got my new job as a trainee surveyor. I knew and still know you were so proud of that. I look back on that day so fondly because, after I had moved out, we became friends.

The strength it must have taken for you to ensure that you were always a parent first and friend second is inspiring. You had a job - that was to be a mother - and you took it seriously and gave me and Emily the best start in life. Not from a material perspective, but we had an incredible home that was filled with love. What we had together were experiences that turned into memories that I continue to cherish now.

I struggled for years to come to terms with what happened; much like Dad, I hoped it would all magically go away. It didn’t and I am having counselling now.

I really can’t even remember the first time you had cancer - how old I was, how I knew and when you told me? I know you came out of the hospital to attend Graham and Louise’s wedding and you had that beautiful maroon top and skirt from Monsoon on – with your “f*ck me shoes”! I loved that you had those shoes, they were so out of character for you, and it just made me happy that you had really treated yourself to something lovely like that. Even though you were poorly and had drains coming out of you and a wig on – you had those sparkly shoes that breathed life and happiness! That is why we had to send you off in them!

I suppose I was in the later years of high school – perhaps upper 6th? I remember doing a charity event for breast cancer at the school and sitting on Willow’s flat balcony with Emily, crying about how you had cancer.

The second time I remember far more vividly. You went to the hospital and Dad called on the way home. I knew it was bad news because Dad was so chipper on the phone – as he is when you know something really bad is happening! You were going to come round, and you did, and you told me, and we knew it was terminal.

I remember you sitting on my sofa trying to be so brave, and you couldn’t - and why should you have been? I cannot imagine the pain you must have felt knowing that your time on earth was coming to an end and you had to leave behind your family whom you loved and cared for so much.

I still don’t think I have ever truly accepted the fact that you are gone. I look at the reaction that other people have when I tell them I lost my mum and its always so sad! People say they’re so sorry and it feels weird when they say it? I think “why are you looking sad?” and “what are you saying sorry for” – I’m ok! Maybe I’m not?

The way I think I survive is to just get over missing you, slowly! Perhaps that is why I find it so hard to say goodbye to people in my life; it’s another loss – but someone that I can still see, so why would I say goodbye?

I look in Stanley’s face now and think, what would I do if I knew I was going to have to leave him and I had no choice about it? It absolutely breaks my heart.

I remember sitting on the landing one night; you were in bed and you said to me you were so upset you were not going to be able to see me get married. I felt the same. On the day, I was so certain that I wasn’t going to cry about you not being there but was going to allow myself to be immersed in the love and happiness that the day was meant to be about. I didn’t cry, I knew you were there! I had pictures of you, I had pink lilies in the corner and I had a charm with your photo on my bouquet.

Dad gave the most amazing speech, talking about you and how proud you would have been of me. There was not a dry eye in the house. Sitting here, writing this makes me really feel how awful it was that you weren’t there. Emily did such an incredible job of steeping into your shoes. She fluffed my dress, she held my hand, she ran around organising everyone and everything – she was so hugely adamant that the day would be perfect for me.

After you had died, two ladies at Asda did a head shave for you and asked me and Emily to go along! We did, and I just remember crying so much. I just couldn’t believe 2 ladies would do something so incredible like shave their hair off for charity – but that just goes to show what an incredible woman you were and how loved you were by everyone! I remember crying and saying to Emily – “I couldn’t do that and she’s my mum!!”

Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, Charlotte Todd . Your mum sounds like an incredible lady and we are very sorry for your loss.