The time to talk

I WAS NINE when my mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but it’s only recently that I felt ready to talk about her death publicly. Being open and vulnerable about something so personal and so devastating has taken time.

Nine is very young to have vivid memories and with grief, your body goes into survival mode and the brain blocks out much of the trauma. But I do recall that first moment I found out she had been taken to hospital to have an emergency operation. I was called to the principal’s office and remember watching him speak and seeing his mouth move but not hearing his words. I was in shock and it was all so surreal. After that I waited for what felt like hours until someone came to pick up my brother Marc and I, but I have no recollection of who that was and what I did for the rest of the day. Dad protected us