When I wake up, my heart doesn’t split into a thousand pieces. My head doesn’t pound with questions asking me why us, or how are we here. When I reach for a mug for my coffee, my hands don’t shake when I see Mum’s mug.
I wondered whether Mummy felt this way too when she was in hospital and whether I did enough to comfort her. I hope she never felt alone when she was with me.
That's one of the most difficult things about losing my mum, I just want to tell her how difficult life is without her in it.
For the first 3 months following my mums passing, I was frantic and desperate for memories. We had already lost her, I was terrified that I’d now forget her too. I wanted to hold on to our memories so tightly as if they were helium balloons. Like a child at the fayre, I daren’t loosen my grip in fear that they’d float away and be forgotten forever.
That’s my Mum, she existed, she laughed, there was a time she wasn’t dying or sad, when this wasn’t our reality, and when she could hug me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. The pain is just an indicator of how strong our bond was.
After the loss of our mum, we have tried several times to find information online about people in similar situations – to feel less alone, to get advice, to know that life can continue after all of the trauma. We couldn’t find anyone. So, we decided that we would become those people for others through The Grief Reality.