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.
What alarmed me most was the vacantness in her eyes as if being present was too much to bear.
I thought I knew grief but this was different.
I lay in the sun, and saw a spider. It was a tiny smudge against the blue. Long, desperate webs trailed from its body like a single stitch that bore witness to the little life hurtling through the sky. Rather than fix him in a physical place, this web stitched the spider into my mind. I often come back to him.
Friends are like stars: you don’t always realise they are there, but they are always shining.
It started grating on me so much, that I felt irrationally angry whenever I had my lamp on and realised that the Feeble Light was still on, doing his best to grace me with his presence. Yet, he was so dim I did not idea he was there.
Thank you Ingrid, and thank you to everyone who allows us to share their posts about grief. Make sure you go on over to Ingrid’s blog to check out the rest of her content, and please let us know via email or our “contact us page” if you’d like to share something about grief on our blog. Everyone grieves and here at The Grief Reality, we want to normalise the conversation.
But this is my world. Those were the cards I had been dealt. I have been living without my Mum for 14 months now. I have been doing okay.
On Facetime to both my boyfriend and my sister, Evee said to me “That’ll do pig, that’ll do” quoting the iconic final line from Babe, and I laughed through my tears. She was right, that’ll do. It’s over now, I can rest.