5100 days without you.

It’s surprising how something that happened so long  ago can still have such an effect on you. Are we just good at putting pain in a box and pushing it to the back of our minds?

Today I got up like any normal Thursday. I overslept so was rushing around like a banshee on acid. I got dressed, I waited for my train, and somehow whilst writing, I started crying.

 I didn’t expect to be upset today to this degree let alone visibly emotional, yet I knew the day was coming, I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Last year I certainly didn’t cry about it and I probably didn’t cry the year before that either. This year it caught me unaware. Grief came and slapped me across the face.


 I worked out that I’ve been without my mum for 5,100 days. The grief was delayed for ages because I was pregnant at the time and I just shut down my emotions. I remember months afterwards just crying and crying. I had this newborn baby to look after. I had a fiancé and my family and this beautiful tiny baby with huge eyes and jet black hair, but I wanted my mum. I didn’t really know what I was doing for one, and crying to your dad because your nipples are sore and the baby won’t latch on properly is not ideal at all but my dad had to become my mum overnight you see. It was a tough time but we  muddled through.

During the year my mum was ill she deteriorated at a fairly rapid rate. Because her tumour was taking over the brain, slowly things didn’t work anymore. Some of it I can’t talk about because it’s sad and also because I think someone’s dignity is important (even if they’re gone).

When she was no longer able to speak I think that was the hardest part of all. I forgot the sound of her voice quickly and that upset me. I still struggle to hear it now. 

It’s not that I resent people who have their mothers but sometimes I feel jealous. I know people feel sorry for me and pity me, at least they used to particularly when it first happened, I hated that. Which is why, like cancer, I tend to talk to people who lost their mothers because there’s no pitiful faces. There’s no insensitive comments. There’s no awkward silences. It’s just another club I belong to that no one wants to be in.  Everyone’s parents die, but nobody wants to lose them when they’re young because that shouldn’t happen.That wasn’t the plan.

It comforts me to think that she’s watching over me and she thinks I’m doing on ok job of life..  And maybe a few tears after all these years isn’t a bad thing. 

Grief has no time limit and those who think I should be over it never truly had their heart broken.. 


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