I Called Out the Window: “Mum, Why Are You Up So Early? You’ll Catch Your Death!” — She Turned and Waved Her Shovel Cheerfully: “I’m Doing This for You Lazybones!” — And the Next Day, My Mum Was Gone… I Still Can’t Walk Past Our Garden Gate Without Tears
 Every Time I See That Pathway, My Heart Clenches Like Someone’s Gripped It in Their Fist. I Took That Photo on the Second of January… I Only Stopped When I Noticed Her Footprints in the Snow—Now That Photo Is All I Have Left of Those Days… We’d Spent New Year Together, Just as Always: Mum in Her Favourite Apron I Gave Her at School, the Smell of Fried Burgers, Family Jokes, Dad Arriving with an Enormous Tree, All of Us Decorating, Singing Old Christmas Songs, Laughing Until We Cried… On 2nd January, I Looked Out to See Mum Clearing a Perfect Pathway from the Gate to Our Door, Her Scarf Tied Up, Red-cheeked, Shovelling Snow So We Wouldn’t Have to Struggle Through the Drifts. “It’s for You, My Lazy Lot—Go Put the Kettle On,” She Called, Smiling. That Was the Last Time I Heard Her Voice So Cheerful. The Next Day She Was Gone, So Suddenly It Didn’t Seem Real. Only Her Little Footprints Remain—Marks in the Snow, and In My Heart.

I remember shouting out the window, Mum, what are you doing out there so early? Youll freeze! She turned around, gave a cheerful wave with her shovel and called back, Im doing this for you lazybones. The next day, she was gone.

Even now, I still struggle walking past our front garden. Every time I see that pathway, its as if someones squeezed my heart tight inside my chest. I took that photo on the second of January. I was just passing by, noticed the footprints in the snow, and stopped. Snapped a picture, not even knowing why at the time. Now, its the only thing I have left from those days.

We celebrated New Years just as we always did, the whole family together. Mum was up and about early on the thirty-first, as usual. The smell of frying burgers woke me upalong with her voice calling from the kitchen, Come on, love! Help me finish the salads, will you? Or your dads going to eat all the ingredients before I even start! I dragged myself down in my pyjamas, hair a right mess. She was at the stove, wearing that peach-patterned apron I gave her when I was still at school, cheeks red from the oven and beaming a smile.

Mum, can I have a coffee first, please? I whined.

Coffee later! First, the potato salad! she laughed, chucking me a bowl of roast veg. Chop them finely, like I like, not those giant cubes you did last year.

We chopped and chatted about anything and everything. She told us stories about her own childhood New Yearshow they never had fancy salads, just a bit of pickled herring and whatever clementines granddad managed to bring home from work.

Then dad rolled in with the Christmas treean absolute monster, nearly scraping the ceiling.

Alright, ladies, behold this beauty! he hollered from the door with a proud grin.

Oh, dad, how many trees did you bring down for that? I gasped.

Mum just shook her head and gave a little laugh. Its lovely, love, but where are we going to put it? Last years was half the size!

Still, she helped us decorate it. My little sister Emily and I hung the fairy lights, and mum found our old ornaments from when I was a kid. She took out the glass angel and said quietly, I bought this for your very first New Year. Remember?

I remember, mum, I lied.

I didnt really, but she looked so happy when I nodded. There was something about that tiny angel that just made her glow.

My brother showed up later, noisy as evercarrying bags, presents, bottles.

Mum, Ive brought proper champagne this time, not that cheap stuff from last year, he announced.

She laughed and hugged him. Just dont go getting everyone tipsy, alright, love?

At midnight, we all trooped outside. Dad and my brother set off fireworks, Emily was squealing with excitement, and mum stood next to me, hugging my shoulders tight.

Look at that, love, she whispered. Isnt life just brilliant sometimes?

I hugged her back. Weve got the best, mum.

We swigged bubbly straight from the bottle, burst out laughing when a firework zoomed towards the neighbours shed. Mum, a little tipsy, danced around in her slippers as Rockin Around the Christmas Tree played, and then dad swept her up off her feet. We were all in tears, laughing so hard.

New Years Day was just lazing about. Mum wouldnt stop cookingthis time it was pies and homemade jelly.

Mum, enough! Were stuffed! I groaned.

Nonsense, itll all get eaten. New Year lasts a week! she brushed me off, busy as ever.

The next morning, second of January, she was up bright and early, just like always. I heard the door slam, peered out the windowthere she was outside with her shovel, clearing the walkway. Old coat, headscarf tied up, making that neat pathall the way from the gate to our front steps. Pushing the snow right up against the wall, like she always did.

I yelled, Mum, why are you out so early? Youll catch your death!

She waved her shovel and grinned. If I leave it to you lot, youll be trudging through snowdrifts till April! Put the kettle on, will you?

I smiled and headed for the kitchen. She was back half an hour later, cheeks glowing, eyes bright.

Thats it, all sorted, she said, plonking herself down for coffee. Looks good, doesnt it?

Its lovely, mum. Thank you.

That was the last time I heard her voice so full of life.

The third of January, early morning, she woke up and whispered, Girls, theres a bit of a pain in my chest. Not bad, but odd.

I started to panic. Mum, should we call an ambulance?

Oh, dont be silly, love. Im just worn out from all the cooking and running around. Ill have a lie down, Ill be fine.

She lay on the sofa, me and Emily sitting either side. Dad popped down the chemist for some tablets. She was even joking, Stop looking at me like Im on my last legs. Ill outlive the lot of you, just you wait.

But then, she suddenly went pale, clutching her chest.

Oh I dont feel well I really dont

We dialled 999, and I held her hand, saying, Please, mum, hang in there, theyll be here soon, youll be alright She looked at me and said, barely a whisper, I love you all so much, love. I dont want to say goodbye.

The paramedics got there quickly, but there was nothing they could do. It was a massive heart attack, over before we knew it. I just sat in the hall, sobbing. I couldnt believe it. Only yesterday she was dancing under the fireworks, laughing, and now

Barely able to stand, I went outside. The snow hadnt fallen much. And I saw her footprintsthose neat, tidy prints, just like she always made. From the gate to the front door, and back again. Exactly as she left them every winter.

I stood there for ages, just staring. Asking God, How is it possible for someone to be here one day, walking on this earth, and gone the next? The footprints are there, but the persons vanished.

I kept thinking maybe that second of January she knew it was her last walkleaving us a clear path, so wed have a way through, even without her.

I didnt let anyone step on those prints. Told everyone to leave them be. Let them stay until the snow covered them for good.

That was mumlooking after us, even when she was already gone.

A week later, we had the biggest snow of the year. I saved that photo, her last footprints. Every third of January, I look at it, then out at the empty path by the house, and my heart aches. It hurts so much, knowing that, hidden under all that snow, she left her last trail behind, those same steps Ill always be following.