Mums’s anniversary is coming up. Usually I tend to write blogs around her birthday or letters to her around this date but this year things were feeling different.
I was thinking, “wow, I’ve finally got to a stage where I’m feeling okay around this time. That’s ‘nice’ (as in relieving) or, different, for me”. Though of course some years are much easier than others.
Until it suddenly dawned on me late last night.
A friend (hello work wifey!!!) even pointed out as I began to contemplate why the sadness? Why the sadness during and after an evening designed for joy, watching a friend in her happy zone and treating her to some creative fun that I’d usually like too for her birthday. Yet the mindful activity we were engaged in, the endless mutterings of seemingly carefree groups around us talking about all subjects trivial, connected me more to the emptiness I’d been feeling of late.
I don’t often book too many things around these dates because I never know how I’m going to feel. Yet people often suggest being busy with others, “distract yourself” etc and maybe that helps some. Maybe it helps me at times too. I think I was okay with making plans this time around as I said, I thought it would be different. I was feeling different.
But it caught me. Her anniversary caught me. Talk of other people’s mum’s caught me. This is not about cautioning people around the bereaved to be more careful with words although blogs are always open to interpretation. This is my stuff. I’m wise enough to know this now than to be angry grieving childhood Abs that surfaces now and again. People aren’t always going to have these dates on the forefront of their mind. That’s absolutely fine. *She says, childhood Abs still questioning it, Adult Abs reassuring her … or … trying! (Sometimes I think I’m too honest in this blog but I know lots relate!)
Big love to my friends and family who text or call me at the beginning of those days and Mothers Day too. Just in case. Just in case it’s sore that year.
Again, this is not scoring high against those who don’t. There are certain friends who have suffered close bereavements that I make a point of putting key dates in my calendar so I don’t forget because I know that would be supportive for them for me to remember. Others aren’t as fussed. They are fine. They’ve even told me so rather than me assuming. Yet if they make it known I’m always there as much as I can be if they want me. Others (including me at times) post it on social media (with or without the intention of letting people know that way and remembering their person but perhaps also some pain). Yet even support systems in immediate circles rightfully get on with their lives and just because they haven’t reached out doesn’t mean they don’t care. I’m far enough in the realm of grief now, old enough to know, that I’m – and more importantly, mum, is still loved without people who are often unsure of what to say or innocently just forgetting that certain days may sting more as will certain conversations, and I usually speak out so it’s known. I’m proud of myself for getting here. I’m more than my teenage pain despite difficult events catapulting back to how I felt then.
Anyway, this blog has helped me dissect how I’ve been and how I am feeling about it. It’s okay to be angry. Naturally, we’ll want or even expect more from those closest at times because we are more rest assured that the love from them is more an unconditional non judgemental type. I’m with family and good company this weekend and it’s going to be okay. It’s okay to spurt out like this blog does when you’re in the midst of it. Grief can be better out than in. No shame.
I don’t think I’ll double this post up with a letter to her. A letter that will explain where all these pent up feelings may have stemmed from aside the date…IVE JUST MOVED HOME. I BOUGHT A FLAT AND I WANT TO SHARE IT AND ALL THE FEELINGS AND DECORATING THAT GOES WITH IT THAT SHE WOULD HAVE LOVED WITH MY MUM. I WANTED TO DANCE WITH HER WITH WINE WHEN IT WAS EMPTY AND SOFA FREE FROM THE BEGINNING. I’m starting a new chapter. And she’s not physically there. And that hurts. And I love her deeply. Miss you mum.
Yeah. “I’ll save that for another time”, she said. Better a bit out than in.
Abs 💚 x