LIVING & GRIEVING

12. memories

Lorna suggested for Mother's Day we should make a memory jar together during my session. The idea was to write down five happy memories with mum and colour code them with sand to fill the jar with. She'd brought in all the supplies, the jar, paper, decorations, coloured sand. I didn't have the heart to tell her it's the last thing I wanted to do.

I wanted to tell her it just seemed pathetic to me. Sad little Ivy had to make a memory jar for her own mother. A mother that should still be alive today. It wasn't fair. It was a reason for everyone to make fun of me for. But Lorna said it would be nice for me to remember the good times with mum, rather than keep replaying the bad ones.

So, I did it anyway. Me and mum used to watch Netflix together, so I wrote that down and put some red sand in the jar. Our favourite show was Gilmore Girls. Because she was the Lorelai to my Rory. It suited us. But that was just one amongst many, we started a lot of series: pretty little liars, vampire diaries, gossip girl. We never got to finish them. I never will now.

Next, I thought about how we always celebrated Saint Patricks' Day with granny at our local pub. I added green sand in for this. Mum used to always drag me up to dance and I'd get embarrassed. I would do anything to dance with her now.

She really did love going to watch Quinn play Gaelic. It was part of her regular Sunday routine. She really did have a special bond with him. I didn't know why, and I'll never understand it now. But he cared for her. I added white sand for the colour of his kit. I found it amusing that I thought to include him at all.

I added pink sand. When I think of my mum, I think of pink. I know it's not a memory. But she was a real girls' girl. She loved to do girly things. She was always gossiping with me and my friends. She would hang out with us and do face masks. She wasn't just my mum; she was one of the girls. My best friend.

Finally, I had to honour how much mum loved George. He followed her everywhere. They were two peas in a pod. He would sit by her feet every morning while she drank her tea and read the newspaper. He even slept under her bed. She might have been my best friend and I'm sure she was dads too. But George was hers.

I sealed the jar up and Lorna got me to decorate it next. I didn't care to do much, so I just stuck some gems on in the shape of a C. I was never going to look at this jar again realistically. I hated the fact I had to even make it. Waiting on the session to finish I felt like a bomb ready to explode. With tears.

As soon as I left the office. I burst out crying. This was the worst part about seeing the school counsellor. You had to go straight back into school afterwards. Luckily, my sessions were just before lunch time. But it still meant I'd have to pretend everything was fine in the common room. I couldn't do that today.

"What's wrong, V?" Cliodhan seemed concerned as I held up the stupid memory jar.

Cliodhan hadn't been in the group long enough to get the memo about Wednesdays. All my friends knew I seen Lorna on Wednesdays. They knew not to ask any questions, so everyone shot her a look. But I was actually glad she'd asked.

"Let me tell you all what's wrong, I made this fucking jar today."

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?" she looked puzzled.

"It's a memory jar. Lorna got me to make it for Mothers' Day."

"That's lovely isn't it!"

"Oh V, that really is lovely," Hannah joined in.

"No, it would be fucking lovely to have my mum here."

I didn't mean to snap at them, but it all felt silly. I had to make a memory jar for my mother. It wasn't fair. I wanted to have my mother here. Physically. I didn't want a memory jar. Sure, it was a nice idea, and some people might have found it comforting. But I just wanted my mum there. The tears started to flow.

I felt like asking if Cliodhan really did think it was lovely. If she would like to do that type of thing to remember her dad. Maybe it was just me and other people actually found grieving this way helpful. Was I being ridiculous? I wondered if talking to her about my mum would be a good idea. At least she would understand in a way.

"Sorry... It's just... I shouldn't have to make a stupid fucking jar. My mum should be here. I don't want to have to remember here. Because she should be here."