“Write it down.” This is the advice so often given to us when we experience intense feelings, whether they are of happiness, sadness or anxiety. Indeed, the impact of writing about such feelings can be profound: it can provide an outlet for the writer, but it also rewards the reader, who is given a privileged insight into someone else’s experiences. As readers, we would like to thank Bilal Razaq, a student of Dixons Allerton Academy, for sharing his stories with us.
I remember my mum, and her dip-dyed purple hair. She always had a warm smile on her face.
I remember the smell of blackcurrant from the Ribena carton and the time when a builder mixed up my mum’s name and called her Ribena.
I remember a dazzling ruby: bright, warm and precious, reminding me of my mum. It was also her nickname.
I remember the smell of raspberry and strawberry, mixing together in the bath bomb shop — a second home for my mum.
I remember the taste of my mum’s homemade shepherd’s pie. Warm and stuffed with love.
I remember my collection of over three hundred cars, which my mum bought for me from ebay.
I remember the clothes shopping trips in which I got bored and started singing in gibberish like a lunatic.
I remember my mum’s calm, sleeping face, legs in the opposite direction as she drifted away from my life. The last sight of her sticks in my mind.
I remember my family crying at her funeral as I played on my PSP, unaware of what had happened.
I remember the gold inscription that I wrote for her gravestone. It said: “ You are a ruby, a precious gem. Rest in peace mum, until we meet again.”
If Love was Water
Even though my dad is deaf
I still love him
If love was water in a cup
It would be filled to the brim