DAD Jamie Buckingham, 37, of Berkeley, explains the mixed emotions Mother's Day brings for his sons, Dylan, nine, and Steven, six. Their mum Becky Kingsland died in a crash two years ago, which also killed their little brother and sister.

DYLAN has drawn a picture of his mummy with her lovely long, curly hair on the front of his Mother's Day card.

Steven has painted two dolphins and a big love heart on his.

Both cards have countless kisses on. Both bring a lump to my throat. This will be our second Mother's Day without their mum Becky, who was killed in a car crash in June 2008. She was 26. We'll take these cards to her grave and light a candle.

Back home the boys will probably want to look at photo albums of their mum. And they can hear her voice because Becky recorded their grandma's answer machine message and she's never changed it.

We miss her terribly, talk of her constantly. My sons are hungry for all my memories of Becky, from how we met to how we fell in love when she was 18.

Their favourite stories are about her wild side, how we used to party all night and roar off on motorbike rallies together. Of course, that was before Becky became a mum. She was a natural mother from the second Dylan was born.

Money was tight because I was studying at university, so Becky distributed catalogues to get extra cash to buy our son educational toys.

When Steven arrived I realised all the things I hadn't done when Dylan was born. Becky had taken on the lion's share, shielding me from new parenthood because she knew I had to concentrate on studying and making a better future for us all. She was my backbone.

But a horrible and long period of postnatal depression also came with Steven. Our relationship was unrecoverable. We went through turbulent times but emerged with friendship and joint custody of Dylan and Steven.

I helped set Becky up in a flat only a mile away. She had two more children with another man. They died in the crash with her. Alanah was two, a gorgeous girl who was blind. Logan, a beautiful boy, was only nine months old.

The road has a slight left-hand bend but she turned right and into a 40-ton articulated lorry. Becky, Alanah and Logan died instantly. Becky's car, a Land Rover Freelander, crumpled into a ball of metal. The night before, I'd picked up Dylan and Steven and had a cup of tea with Becky. That was the last time we spoke.

I have never been so scared as I prepared to tell Dylan and Steven the blackest news.

I took them into the conservatory, knelt down beside them and asked them to listen carefully because what I had to say was very, very important. They listened and I told them mummy, Alanah and Logan had died.

They broke down immediately. So did I. I remember saying: 'I will never leave you and will always love you'.

We went through a year of hell. I'd decided I had to stay strong for the boys. But that was the worst thing I could do. Counselling has taught me that.

Dylan changed. He became quiet, introverted, reclusive.

He went for a residential weekend of counselling with the Winston's Wish child bereavement charity. At the start he looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. By the end he looked like someone had taken it off him. They gave me my little boy back.

Steven hadn't wanted to talk about his mummy. If you tried to approach the subject, he used all sorts of diversionary tactics, saying: 'Ooh, look at this toy!' Counselling helped by gently encouraging Steven to express himself through play.

Now I know it's best if Daddy shows his feelings.

I've learned a lot about being a dad by being a mum. I still hear Becky's voice telling me what I should do.

I think Becky would give me seven out of 10 for looking after her boys. We almost always eat meals I've made from scratch with healthy, fresh ingredients. I can sew but I am not so good at cleaning. I hope she would be proud of how happy they are. She lived to encourage her kids to love, learn and laugh. She even painted her kitchen black and white like a Friesian cow so it would be fun for them.

We will tell stories of Mummy. We'll cuddle. We'll cry. We'll look at pictures of Becky, and we'll make pictures for her. Dylan and Steven are cracking kids. That's because they had a wonderful mum."