Things Gina would have...

Mothers Day is another difficult time of year, for a mother without her daughter. It seems cruel that as everyone else celebrates, visits, sends flowers, Gina's mother is having to see al that happening publicly on Facebook etc, while having to cope with the fact that there will be no new card from her daughter. No phone call.  This year, as last, Gina's last Mothers Day card is proudly displayed again. A reminder, if one were needed, of what we've lost.

Now that it's more than a year since we lost Gina, people might expect it to get easier - the first anniversary has gone, the first Christmas has been avoided. The problem is (as Gina used to say), that's not how it works.  The fact that it's now over a year means that we no longer have the "this time last year" moments to look back on. They somehow helped, and there's a feeling that we slowly forget the last year we had with Gina. Even though much of it was awful, there were brighter moments and at least a sense of purpose. As that fades into the past, it feels like we're losing more of her. Hanging onto memories id not easy; perhaps not possible.

It seems like yesterday that we left the Beatson, feeling numb and empty after Gina had slipped away from us. A year on, that numbness still taints every single day and the world still seems a darker place. We carry on though. What else can we do? Gina would want us to find a way to be happy again, but it's so hard.

We've dreaded today. The first Christmas after losing someone close, is bound to be hard. It's doubly difficult for us because this time last year we were sat around Gina's bed opening her presents for her and describing the contents in the hope that she could hear. We'd already had our last conversations with her and two days later she would be gone. Christmas this year isn't about celebration. It's about surviving into a second year without our beautiful girl. This year there are no decorations. No tree. No Christmas dinner. There will be no Christmas morning pancakes - a unique family tradition which Gina was especially keen on. So do we say we'll never do these things again, which we associate with Gina? Or, do we do them as a way to remember her? Both seem equally painful.

If she'd somehow managed to win her battle with cancer, around now Gina would have been watching the second half of "Wicked!" with us. On this day last year, Gina's close family came to Glasgow for a private showing of the first film at the Beatson hospital.  By this time, we were staying with Gina round the clock. She had been sleeping most of the time - but somehow managed to find the strength, not just to stay awake through the film, but to smile and chat, and to be the Gina we all loved so much. It must have been exhausting.  Of course, she knew why everyone was there - but it was infinitely better than the alternative. Without this, everyone would have visited Gina's bedside one-by-one, in far more sombre circumstances. This way, it was turned into a happy occasion that was a rare glimmer of light in those dark days. In a little over 2 weeks, she was gone. We are proud beyond words of the strength she showed on that day - and throughout 2024. The second part ...

Gina's brother recently introduced us to a new version of a family favourite card game. The new version introduces bidding and strategy to a game which was otherwise largely just luck. Gina would have approved. She and her partner loved games like this. I wish we could have introduced her to it.

It's that time of year when the shops are full of mince pies and all the trappings of the commercial Christmas bulldozer. Perhaps understandably, we are not much in the mood for celebrating. There will be no tree here this year. There will be no decorations and everything which can be avoided, will be avoided.  Gina would have disapproved. She'd have wanted us to learn to live without her. Perhaps we will, but Christmas? I don't see us ever celebrating Christmas again, but this year will be especially difficult to endure.