Writing on the blog is deeply personal. I imagine I sit you down, offer you tea, hold your hand and look you in the eyes. Whilst you may read this and throw it away, or never think of it again, I think of it every day. The power of you sitting with me, and giving me space to share my thoughts.
Hopefully dear reader, by the time that this post is up, my essay will have figured out how to write itself, references will be arranged alphabetically in a long list and it will submit itself.
A thought provoking and beautiful piece from our friend from the Instagram family. Head over to Lynn’s Instagram page for beautiful art inspired by grief.
There is no consolation for missing someone who can’t come back, but there are things you can do to feel closer to your person, and I am thankful to be able to continue something that we both loved together.
But that’s grief, isn’t it? It comes when you least expect it. When you find a video you sent to your mum, of you in a pyjama set she bought you, tucked in a bed she kissed you goodnight in, cuddling the cat you both loved so much together.
There’s a small scar above my left eye, a keepsake from the time my sister and I tried to dig our way to China. I don’t remember the exact thought process that led to this bold venture, but since I was 5 and she was 13, I’m sure our reasoning was perfectly sound. I’m also sure that living in southeastern Idaho played a role in the decision because 1) We had nothing else going on, and 2) Local authorities hadn’t yet enacted any laws against minors procuring gardening shovels, ladders, and gas lanterns, and 3) There were plenty of other kids around who were eager to help (probably because we promised them fields of free fortune cookies upon job completion).
I see a girl who got through a difficult year of her life. It was nothing like the worst, but it was nothing like the easiest. I see a girl who has been hurt, who has healed, and who looks to the future with bright eyes. I see a girl who is not perfect, who makes a plethora of mistakes, who has a library of stories and someone who keeps on trying, no matter what.
Losing our mum aged me in so many ways, which I have mentioned a lot in blog posts before. Mum would always call me a “party girl” which used to make me cringe, but I quite liked the colourful description. I liked that people thought I was colourful and energetic.
Thank you for being here. Thank you to the silent readers who don’t comment. Thank you to the readers who do comment. Thank you to the people who come from our social media. Thank you to the people who stumble across our blog and never come back. Thank you to the people who keep coming back. Thank you for being here with me as I grow and navigate this world without my Mum.
Merry Christmas and Happy New year, Grievers, and as difficult as it may be, try to begin each day with a smile. It really does help. 🙂 Peace and blessings!