The very first photo is my lovely mum in a blue ballgown, taken on the 14th of September, 2013. I would have been 13. The royal blue of Mum's dress brightens and flaunts her clear blue eyes. A faint, hesitant smile has only aged 7 years with fondness and love. Her hair is short, and slightly messy. I love it, but I can imagine mum brushing her fingers through it only moments beforehand.
Crying is a natural response to the world. Yet, here we are insisting it takes place behind closed doors, and it is something we should be embarrassed about.
I would say I'm a very resilient person. Katie often says that nothing phases me, and my Mum would often say I take everything in my stride. I often say that as long as I have a good playlist going, I can do anything I need to or want to. Quarantine lately had been getting the best of me.
Katie and I will stand side by side and talk about the creation of The Grief Reality. We will talk about how alienating grief was, but the love we felt from this community. We are indebted to the WordPress community for the life it brought back to us.
Is a nice one.
This is Daisy. She came from a nearby farm. I loved her before I met her and chose her name before Mum found the advert for her.
I hope I will forever be grateful, even when inevitably things go wrong; this is my life and I’m in love with it again.
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.
We never expected to feel so supported by your comments of encouragement or simple “me too” messages or a “hang on in there, it does get better”. Knowing other people were able to survive such loss gave me hope and shined a light on a future that I thought I’d never be able to attain after losing our mum.
“In a plane crash, you are always told to put your own oxygen mask on first. You need to put your oxygen mask on before your sister’s. She’s 19, she’ll sort herself out, and you need to sort yourself out first”.