Thanks, Mum.
Thanks for your company. You’re family, sure, but more than that, you’re one of my best friends. Whether it’s a long-overdue chat about the state of the world, a drunken night in with awful films, a gaming session with the girls, or an evening at the theatre, you always make time for us. You’re never more than a phone call or e-mail away, and that’s awesome.
Thanks for being the mother my friends are jealous of me having.
Thanks for your support. When things are rough, I know that you care. A long, long time ago, you saw fit to remind me that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there to help, and just knowing that seems to make everything go right. You’re my lucky clover.
Thanks for giving me the respect you’d give another adult, even when I wasn’t one.
Thanks for your advice. You’re one of the smartest, wisest people I know, and you’re unafraid to speak your mind. I admire the way you explain yourself, listen to others, and mediate. But thanks, too, for letting me make my own mistakes, and for supporting me even when you knew I was wrong.
Thanks for being humble enough that you’ll scoff when you read this.
Thanks for my upbringing. Thanks for instilling into me a set of virtues that are both idealistic and pragmatic. Thanks for teaching me to question everything, and not take anything at face value. And thank you – thank you so much – for making sure that for my entire life, there’s never been a moment when I’ve felt unloved.
Just… thanks, Mum. I love you.
Dan
Humble my arse! Wonderful timing though…. I read your message after a long, cold, solitary walk around a city I don’t know surrounded by (albeit friendly) strangers and was feeling quite small and alone. Your words filled up the empty space inside me with with squishy, warm, loveliness and mean more to me than words can say.
Thank you son, I love you too.
[But then, you already knew that.]