May 2018 my lovely Mum died suddenly of a heart attack. On Monday we were food shopping; on Friday she was dead. They didn't even get the paddles to her, it was so quick and final. The two May Bank Holidays meant a month passed before we could bury her in style. That same week my ex-partner, and father of my only son, flew off to Scandinavia to remarry, taking with him beloved son who is about to turn 13. ,Whilst away my son escaped the aftermath and funeral - and Dad took every opportunity to reclaim his parental role. A role, quite frankly Dad had no interest in whatsoever until this year. When I told him I was pregnant, he got in the bath and burst out crying. We split up in 2011 due to the economic downturn plus the usual younger female on the phone late at night thing ... that is no big deal ... but added to the other crimes or being dismissive when I had pneumonia for example, it touched a nerve. And I left with my son, who had just started primary school.
Meanwhile, I started my single life as a single parent and, being a traditionalist, opted not to work while my son was young. This meant I was financially poor and supported emotionally by my Mum and it meant that I had no love life as my ex made few visits to my parental home, or had my son to stay. This was a huge sacrifice but one I would do again because I saw my little boy's every first experience, every smile and every laugh. The newness of his life was exciting and still is. That alone has kept me strong in adverse times. I am not a bitter person either; I happily met my ex for chats and gossip and advised him on where he was going wrong with temporary girlfriends. He is very lucky to have married someone suitable at last. My son seems to think they are preferable to me right now. But he is a teenager and needs his real Mum. And I am an intelligent and clear-headed Mum who respects Dad and wants to get over the bereavement of not just my Mum, but the demise of my family which is floating away out of reach. Poverty and homelessness are real and present in this town and the next. I Statistics we are none. No one counts the poor or the lowest caste. No one wants to see the losers of life sitting in the doorways of multi-national shops or in the ancient arches of government buildings. Health and heart are damaged daily just by trying to survive the heartache and isolation. The injustice is too tiring to think about without calories and faith. It's been one Hell of a summer for me. One I will never forget. And while the sun shone so fiercely this summer, I was literally being oven baked in a car which became my bedroom. Now too sold by my father, or brother, or someone I used to value. The list of people and strangers that I have met has been amazing. The silver lining, as they say. The moments of simple joy when something, anything, went well ... for once. Unlucky, yes, Deservedly, who knows? I have searched my own soul and found it to be clean and honest. Now I need to build a fund to springboard my son and I out of this situation which has unfairly trodden on my dreams. Thank you for your help, or just for reading the above. Zara