Give me all of your prayers to sing
And I’ll turn the night into the skylight of day
I got a taste of paradise
I’m never gonna let it slip away
Heaven can wait…

When I look back on my child hood, I think of happiness. I was loved very much, by everyone around me. Of course, there were times when I wish I had more, went on those big family holidays to Florida or wherever. But I didn’t need it. Some of my fondest memories involve a caravan in Cornwall, walks along the cliff’s of Folkestone and Dover and dancing with my Mum and Dad around the house.

I love love love music. Like, I am sure people get annoyed with me when I am like,
“Ohh listen to this the lyrics are amazing.” But it is how I express how I feel. Be that loving someone, hating someone, being jealous, sad, angry whatever! Music genuinely makes me so happy. I go to a lot of gigs, like a lot. You name them, I have probably seen them. I am that crazy person dancing and singing along to every song.

Whenever I write a post, the title is always song lyrics, followed by song lyrics and then some songs I love at the end. Then throughout the entire process of writing a post I am listening to music! When I am in the bath, I am listening to music, when I am at work, I am listening to music.

I always thought my love for music stemmed from my Dad, but when I think about it, it was both my Mum and Dad. Every Sunday, whilst cooking our obligatory Sunday roast dinner and ironing our school and work clothes; my Mum would have her cd player going. Usually playing Meat Loaf or Shania Twain, sometimes Cher and Fleetwood Mac. I would always sit in with my Mum and sing and dance with her. Some of my all time favourite songs are by these artists. I am instantly taken back to happy memories and of course the smell of a roast being cooked.

Okay, Okay you get it I love music. This post isn’t just about music. It is about memories. How lucky are we that we can remember almost everything we want to. The good and the bad.

One of my favourite memories is when me and my sister told my Mum that we were taking her to London to see Meat Loaf! Oh my god she was ecstatic! Like I have never seen her so happy as when we took her. It was April 2013, I drove up to the 02 and we met Kayleigh there. Mum wanted to listen to Meat Loaf on the way up, even though we were seeing him that evening, it didn’t matter to her.
We did all the usual stuff, had dinner etc. Then it was time for the main man! He obviously was amazing! Whether you like him or not, he impressed me. We sung along to every word and danced away the night! I remember this day and I hope I never forget it. Sadly, I’m not sure who for more; my blissfully unaware Mumma or us. My Mumma cannot remember going. Even if I show her videos or pictures, she doesn’t remember going. She has forgotten that excitement and that moment he came on stage singing
“Like a bat out of hell, I’ll be gone when the morning comes..”
If I play Meat Loaf or Shania Twain she remembers the songs and lyrics. She hasn’t completely lost it, but she cant remember the dancing in the kitchen or anything like that.

This is heart breaking. 
I guess I should be used to it by now? I mean she does have alcohol related dementia. She has been diagnosed for nearly a year now. WOW can you believe that?! This time last year, we weren’t even sure my Mum was going to make it.
I still look at the pictures in disbelief.

My Mum, for as long as I can remember been an alcoholic. I have wrote about this before and told you all the details. Maggie Parkes, was and is not a bad person. She didn’t sit on park benches drinking from a paper bag. She functioned, very well actually, she loved us so much, we were not neglected by any measure. With all that being said, the harsh reality is that she was an alcoholic and sometimes; not always, we had to manage this. Put her to bed, cook our dinners and grow up before our time. I would beg her to stop drinking, that it would kill her one day. I know this was my Dad’s biggest fear. Little did we know, it would come true a lot sooner than any of us had thought.
All of us had almost accepted that she wasn’t going to make it. We were told to prepare for the worst and started thinking about funerals and sorting out money and things like that. Now thankfully, we didn’t have to go through with these plans. At least this last year has been kind to us. Well, kind of. Putting it bluntly, she hasn’t died, but we have lost her. Lost her to this evil illness that takes every part of your memory, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly. It’s almost weird to say she has improved, but she has since she was first admitted. But lately I have been noticing she is forgetting more and more stuff and getting more and more confused.

Memories, for my Mum are starting to fade. She remembers my Dad, but not that she married him. She thinks she still lives in a flat, but at 67 Dover Road (our family home) which wasn’t a flat. But the most heart breaking thing is she thinks my Dad is still alive, and that he visits her. This weekend when I saw her, he had brought her in some clothes, these were what she was wearing. He had told her that he would be back to see her and she was confused as to why he hadn’t been in yet because it was a Sunday and he would need to be back at work shortly. She asked me to text him and ask him where he was. I had to lie and say he was on his way.

I wouldn’t mind so much, but this was all preventable. If only she had listened to us, but more importantly herself. If those promises to stop drinking were kept. She could have saved herself. There is a moment in my life I never thought I would have to experience, let alone when I was 25. That was when I had to drag my Mum to my house and bathe her, god knows how long she hadn’t got out of that bed for. I washed her hair and cleaned her clothes and put her to bed, like I was her Mumma. The look on her face just scared and lost, not knowing what was going on.
That is what kills me, but even more that none of this never had to be this way.  

My wonderful family, is now even more broken. Nothing seems to make sense as it used to. I never thought at my age I wouldn’t have my parents to look after me. This isn’t a pity party. But it is true. I think sometimes I see the world in a different way to some others. I cherish things so much more, and that’s why music is so important to me. It explains how I feel. Going to those gigs and living those feelings; by singing the songs really badly or dancing away, sometimes crying along to the songs, sometimes smiling and screaming.

All these memories I am making, in the hope that if I were ever to find myself in a position like my Mum’s that I would be taken back to those moments by hearing a song, remembering a feeling I had when hearing that song. Reliving it all. The good and the bad. I don’t ever want to think I didn’t do what I wanted to do. I didn’t love enough, or dance enough, sing enough or laugh enough. I want the adventures and the memories to live on with me for as long as I can hold on to them.

So here we are, Friday 13th July Mumma Parkes’ 56th birthday. She loved the clothes, the pyjamas and especially the cake. It’s another year I got to spend with my Mumma. Some will understand that feeling, some will only be able to imagine the pain. But I will be forever grateful that I got that extra year.

Here’s to the next Mumma, Happy Birthday x

“Lets step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress adventure.”
Albus Dubledore, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

I could list one hundred songs that remind me of my Mumma. But the ones that stick out the most for me are Meat Loaf – You took the words right out of my mouth and Cher – If I could turn back time.

Being Becka x