When I was younger; I didn’t have to capacity to appreciate all you did when you were the same age as me. Your mother saw red and drank away your life. So there you were, blowing out candles by yourself.

She found a man and pumped out two more. You didn’t want your sisters to endure the same fate as you, so you became a mother of two at thirteen. So there you were, giving up your younger years for them.

As you grew up, you married young and had a child of your own. Except, your ‘man’ beat you black and blue so you had to pluck up the courage to leave. And there you were, alone, doing what you could for your first son.

You went on to find love, but that marriage slipped away from you both. However, you now had me. So there you were, two sons, without a life again.

Your mother grew old and weak. Cancer flooded her body like the plague yet you still had the strength – despite everything – to give her all that she didn’t give you. So there you were, bold like a god, forgiving the devil.

I learned as I grew up that they don’t write stories about women like you. They don’t tell the tales of the courage you presented. They don’t write songs about you because you’re not wearing a cape. So here you are, older, wiser, better than ever.

Now that is a fighter, if I’ve ever heard of one. This is certainly something you’ll never see. But if you do, here I am saying you’re incredible. Thank you for everything.