I'm an Orphan. Please Stop Being So Awkward About It
Another Mother’s Day, come and gone. Scented candles, chocolates and Cliff Richard calendars, as though all mothers have a thirst for Jasmine scents, diabetes and creepy-looking men. Like every year, I admired the festivity of it all, but the occasion didn’t really apply to my life. A bit like how my close friend describes celebrating Christmas as a British Muslim.
I’m 24. Mum died 23 years ago, a week before my first birthday. And Dad, when I was 18. They were teens when I was born prematurely