The first time I saw my mother drink…to be perfectly honest it has been so lone I can't remember her not having a wine glass in her hand. It's become part of her, an accessory almost. But she's my mother, she's a grown women, of course she knows what she's doing. When you become a parent, everything you do is for a reason right? There must be a reason for her drinking, there has to be; because that is why I took my first sip. I wanted to feel what she felt, I wanted to understand why. I was hoping for relief, I was hoping for content, but I got neither. It made the whorl softer but that didn't mean there wasn't any pain. It made my mind calmer but that didn't mean my thoughts had changed. Callum. Callum was on my mind. All day, everyday, all the time. I missed him so much, and that was made worse by the fact I couldn't reach him. I've lost him forever. So that's why I drank, why I drink. In the hope that it will take-over the Callum in my mind and replace it with something else. That's why mother does it, to stop thinking about dad and to some extent it's working for her. She still gets up, she still worlds, she gets on with her life and that's exactly what I want to do. What I need to do.
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