Laura rang from rehab to ask, ‘Mum, will you come and meet my care worker?’
Off I went on the long journey mid-week to have a meeting with Laura’s care worker at the rehabilitation house.
Laura was happy to have this get-together, happy to have this attention. We sat in a private room, the three of us. ‘Laura’s doing very well,’ I was told. ‘Is there anything you would like to add?’
Yes there was. ‘I want my daughter back, as a family we deserve that.’
I had been a supportive and loving mother to Laura and would do anything to have her back the way she used to be before The Big I Am, before alcohol, before drugs stole her away from me. A tear fell on my cheek and rolled to the corner of my mouth. I tasted the salt, concentrated hard on pulling myself together.
Laura cooly said, ‘I need to go and get cereal, this is the time that I eat.’ Off she went.
The care worker and I were alone, in the room. ‘You know, Laura does love you … she loves you a lot,’ the care worker said.
All the love, care and attention, all the fun times, good holidays, the inclusion in everything we did as a family, the support I gave her, what child would not love a mother such as me?
Why was I sat here, listening to a stranger telling me my daughter loved me.
I knew that.