**Two Mums, One Heart**
My mum Natasha passed away when I was just two. I only knew her from photographs, but I never forgot her. Yet all my life, I called another woman “Mum”the one who came into our home and stayed forever.
I dont remember the day she arrived. It felt like Mum Grace had always been there. Petite, softly rounded, with eyes as dark as coal and a smile that could warm even the greyest day.
“Mum Grace,” Id call her.
“Little Gracie,” Dad would murmur fondly.
No one ever hid the fact she wasnt my birth mother. But my heart accepted her without question. I believedtrulythat Mum Natasha, before leaving, had asked God to send me a guardian. And He did.
Mum Natashas sisters and my grandmother often took me to stay with them. Never missing a chance, theyd ask, “Does she make your breakfast? Does she hug you? Does she take you for walks?”
I stayed quiet. Back then, I didnt have the words to say their questions hurt. Now I understandthey couldnt see how fiercely I loved Mum Grace. She loved me just as much as if shed given birth to me herself.
She never stopped me remembering Mum Natasha. In fact, shed hold my hand and take me to church herself.
Wed step into the cool, dim chapel, where candles flickered before the saints. Shed buy two: one for health, one for remembrance.
“This ones for you, lovefor health and happiness. And this ones for Mum Natasha, so Heaven stays bright for her.”
Id watch her cross herself and whisper the prayers after her.
“Mum can Mum Natasha see us?” Id ask softly.
“She can, sweetheart,” shed say, smoothing my hair. “Souls dont die. They live with the Lord. And when we pray, she hears us and smiles.”
After the service, wed always request a memorial. And as the vicar sang, Mum Grace would quietly cross herself and murmur, “Rest in peace, Natasha see how were keeping your Ellie safe?”
Then, stepping back into the daylight, shed smile through tears. “See, love? Youve two mums. One in Heaven, one here. And we both love you just the same.”
We lived in a village, and everyone knew Mum Grace. She worked as a cook for the harvest crews, always darting to work with quick, bustling steps.
“Wheres the fire, Grace?” neighbours would tease.
“Work, where else? Cant dawdle!” shed laugh.
She hurried home just as fast. The moment she crossed the thresholdstraight to me.
“Ellie, how was your day? Had tea? Done your schoolwork?”
Then came the hugswarm, tight, kisses on my forehead, cheeks, even my nose.
“This nose is my favourite!” shed whisper, giggling.
When she baked scones, she always set aside a little bowl of dough just for me.
“Here, my little helperpractice with this!”
“Will they taste nice?” Id ask, already flour up to my elbows.
“Course they will! Youve got a golden touch, just like Mum Natasha.”
Her scones were heavenlyslathered with butter, sprinkled with herbs and she herself was like fresh breadwarm, soft, comforting.
When I stumbled at my first job, she soothed me with kind wisdom.
“Mum, I keep messing up its all wrong,” Id groan.
Shed sit close, holding my hands in hers. “Ellie, who doesnt make mistakes? Thats how we learn. Jot it down next time. I wasnt born knowing recipesI scribbled them all in a notebook. Youll get there. Chin up.”
When my son was born, Mum Grace stood all night outside the hospital. Aprils chill bit the air, but she never left.
“Mum, whyd you stay out in the cold?” I asked later.
She smiled that sunbeam smile. “Where else would I be, love? I prayed under your windowfor strength for you, and angels to watch your boy. Even if I couldnt be inside, my heart was.”
Then one morning, Dad called. “Love Mum Grace is gone.”
I couldnt believe it. A light that bright couldnt just fade.
Now, flipping through our old album, photos of Mum Natasha and Mum Grace weave together like threads in a tapestry. And I knowGod didnt leave me orphaned. He gave me one mum for life, and another for love and faith.
