The end of being Mum

As I mop up the mess, reflect on exceptional gratitude to Second-in-Charge and to other shareholder who, between them, kept me on the telephone for some five hours, helping to prevent me disgracing myself altogether with any “please don’t go” phone calls to Heathrow.

Both also regaled me with tales of their own parents, both sets of which apparently went totally to pieces when they themselves went off travelling, which makes me feel slightly less over dramatic.

Knew I would feel upset – being the bright person I am – but never expected to feel so completely disorientated. My son has lived away from home for about four years. But sheer scale of distance to Oz and China, coupled with lack of certainty about return, enforces an end of the era to parenting and a sudden lack of focus to life that I had never anticipated.

The only way forward is to throw myself into work until I re-establish connection with the person who is me, not Mum.

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