My beautiful mother died of ovarian cancer when she was just 29 years old. I had just turned three and my brother was only six months old.
Given my age, I unfortunately don't have any distinct memories of my mum, although my Nonna told me that when mum died, and they said, "Go and say goodbye to your mother," I asked if she was going to get my Humphrey (I had just lost my beloved Humphrey B. Bear). I vaguely remember giving her a cuddle goodbye.
When Mum died, we lived with my grandparents for a bit — my Nonna and Nonno on both sides were beyond instrumental in our upbringing — but Mum's death was never discussed. I think everyone was too traumatised. Apart from knowing my mum died young, we just kind of got on with things.