I lost my mum suddenly 10 months ago. She was 60 and while she wasn’t in Olympic athlete shape, there was no warning. Plans had been made, tickets booked, diaries synced, milestones discussed. Mum and I had been to Hell and back, probably more than once. She was a harsh critic but also a top tier cheerleader. Whatever my thoughts on her as a mum, she was a world class Nana. My LOs (now 5 & 2) adored her and knew unconditional love to its fullest.
Finding out she’d died, still feels like it belongs to someone else. There’s not a day that goes by still that I don’t go to call her or message her or make plans with her. I was grateful to have my Littles to distract me, keep me busy and ensure that every day, I put one foot in front of the other. The rest of my family got to fall apart completely, take extended breaks from work and leave all the “messy” stuff to me. This month has seen the second to last “mum thing” completed and I feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
I feel like that’s been the biggest surprise in all this. Is how two such opposite things can sit alongside each other. People say “the firsts are always the hardest” - after the 600th time I’ve gone to call her, it doesn’t feel easier. And Christmas and birthdays, haven’t felt harder… Receiving school reports, getting test results, seeing old faces - they hurt the most. Most days I still feel like I just need to lodge my complaint with the right manager and they’ll realise their gigantic mistake and put it all right…
Loss is too big to describe, it’s like it needs its own vocabulary, but if there were words for these feelings and experiences? Ooof, I think they’d be boxed up and dropped to the deepest depths of the ocean.
I miss my mum, that’ll never change. I’m stilling finding all the little ways in which I’ve lost her and all the little ways she’s still present. I’m trying to be grateful but I’m sick of people trying to make it better by telling me to find the positives and innumerate all the ways it could be worse. I’m heartbroken by the way people tell me to focus on the children, without realising that really knowing what these incredible little angels lost, breaks my heart all over again, every time.
I don’t want to feel “better” right now, I want the space to actually bear witness to the pain and sorrow that I’ve had to push to one side, without feeling like I “should be over the grieving stage already”.