Dear Mum

Dear Mum.

A Journal of a lifetime from you to me.

My daughter gave me a journal for Christmas.  I didn’t realise it at the time but it was a journal of a lifetime.

It has a wide, pink spine with gold embossed lettering on the cover which reads

DEAR MUM
From you to me
A Journal of a lifetime

The introduction goes on to explain the concept and the final sentence moves me the most.

“ People say that we all have at least one book in us and this will be one of yours.  The story of you and me that I will treasure forever.”

What is ‘Dear Mum’ really about?

Keeping a journal is one thing. Knowing someone very special is waiting to read it and treasure it takes it to another level entirely for me. That’s what DEAR MUM is all about.

That my daughter has reached an age in which she’s interested in knowing more about me as a person makes me appreciate how far she and I have come already. All those stories I might have wanted to share and now, at 25 years old, she’s ready to hear them as a young adult.

Little did I know that as I sit up in bed each morning to write the effect this would have on me. The questions begin quite innocently. For instance:

Tell me about the time and place where you were born. Tell me about your Mum and Dad. Even so I found the answers to these to be quite contemplative since around the time of my birth and my early childhood were tumultuous and my parents were very troubled by it.

What were your favourite toys or games? This answer was revealing. I discovered that the sorts of things I was into age 5 hold true for me still today – simply more mature versions of it.

What do you remember about your holidays? Why we seem to remember the bad things more easily than the good ones is a shame. My childhood holidays could be counted on three fingers – all of them broken. Father was stung by a jellyfish on the first one so a man-flu type cloud hung over the week. During day 1 of the second holiday he fell over his roller skates at Butlins and couldn’t play hockey. That became my fault. On the final occasion he left Mum and I making sandcastles in Jersey while he went off to chat up another woman. That didn’t go down well either.

The questions then switch to my daughter such as:

What did I think and feel when I first saw her? What did she look like? What funny things did she say or do? The memories that flooded into my head as I relived those moments far exceeded the 1-page I was allocated to document each.

What characteristics did she have as a child that she still has now? When I thought about this I was struck by how evident they all were by such an early age. Her unique blueprint, her soul’s contract already in place. This must be the same for all of us surely.

What am I most proud of about her? I pondered long and hard this one. Not because I couldn’t find things to say but because I wanted to acknowledge precisely those traits that make her special and worthy of her spiritual ordination.

The focus then returns to me with questions that are increasingly searching. For instance:

What are the happiest or greatest memories of my life? Describe something you still want to achieve. What have you found the most difficult in your life?
Taking a deep breath, I allow the poignancy of these questions to sink in. I have a feeling that how I answer them could have an influence on what I do with my life next.

Finally:

What would you really like us to do together? This answer is stalling me at the moment. There is an opportunity here and I don’t want to miss it. Not just to get clear in my head what the real answer is but also to have the intention of doing something about it. We never know how much time we have left, right?

My first response might go something like this.  To make a Grand artistic Tour of the major cities in Europe with her like the wealthy young men did in the 18th century, taking 3-4 years over it, including an extensive sojourn in Italy with Rome as the ultimate destination. I love the sound of this but okay, it’s a little impractical. On the other hand, why not some version of it.

The deeper, more significant answer might be.  To be the one to give her away? To be close by at the birth of her first child?

When the journal’s complete it returns to her. My self-imposed deadline is her birthday, which happens to fall on Mother’s Day this year. I am close to completion.

The paper is lovely to write on, absorbing the ink from my pen beautifully. My writing is neat because I’m not rushing it. I’m in the moment, reliving each moment of this precious lifetime shared.

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Mary Nondé is the founder of the Intuitive Vision Board since 2010.  She is the author of ‘Awaken Your Intuitive Vision – Available on Amazon