Sharing my favourite ‘grief’ quote on this day that marks half my life without you.
Mum – “mum, mum, mum”. I miss saying “mum”, again. It’s been a bit hard to say that beautifully missed three letter word around wedding planning times because I realllllly wish you were around. I miss you so much. I really do.
The sun is shining beautifully today. You are shining.
I never know how I’m going to feel on ‘your days’. Birthdays, anniversaries. You can’t pick and choose these things.
I had a great day yesterday. I booked the day off as I usually would if it was a weekday (one of your days), but it was more to enjoy this bank holiday, the weather, be with loved ones and take in an incredible weekend I had the last one with some of my favourite people. A weekend you would have been at or involved in. Dancing away, celebrating with me. Which I’m sure you are, wherever you are.
This blog is an extension of a social media tribute to some lovely other mums I have had a long the way since losing you.
Despite how heart achingly awful it is, death is an inevitable part of life and loss is a huge teacher in one way, in fact in more ways that one. Bare with me, hurting, grieving people. A lot of beauty can come from it. Time is needed for healing. In grief, so much is learned. So, so much. Especially from exceptionally painful experiences when loved ones were so close to you.
You learn about yourself, you learn about the person you lost (you may spend time frantically trying to put puzzle pieces together on their lives or finding out things about them you now can’t ask them), you learn to cope, you build resilience, you learn to share emotion which brings about such pain and realise you can go on. You learn to choose how you might live without that person. As per the quote above.
Beautiful writing is made in grief. Beautiful music is made in grief. Bereaved souls have encountered something that will change their lives. The immediate aftermath may feel like your inner world has crashed, years after too, there’s no time limit or linear process, that belongs solely to you. I’ve learned to own mine.
You may find when someone passes people send condolences for the first few months, offer a hand, lend an ear or arms for a hug. You may be numb at this time. Then all of a sudden the support dissipates. And you’re still surviving, breathing your daily grief.
It’s not their fault. Life goes on. That’s another area grief teaches you about. But you will continue, you can continue, and ride it out. Like waves, it can come crashing like you don’t expect it too, but you learn to surf. Boy…do you learn to surf.
Let people know where you’re at if you can. Do you want to talk about the person? Do you especially not want to talk about that person? Let on, expand your support. Know that it’s okay, and that you are not alone.
I used to think so many aspects of my grief were ugly. ‘Guilt, anger, insecurity, lack of trust’, it felt horrible seeing them arise in myself, but over time I’ve learned to be accepting.
Death is a part of life.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from this death, mum, is that I have confirmation and evidence that my love for you was blooming colossal, huuuuge, if it hurt this much to lose you.
In loving memory mum, keep shining down on us all. We adore you. We miss you. You live through us.
Love Abs xxx