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.
What has happened to me? Has grief really changed me as a person?
"I still ask 'why me?'" Thank you to anonymous for submitting this short, simple, but heartfelt post. Feel free to email anonymous submissions in at thegriefreality@outlook.com It is a pleasure to have you here. (Picture by Evee)
Look at the menu bar on top of this page and you will see a new tab labelled “As Told By You”. We want to hear more from you about your experiences with grief. This can be in anyway you so wish to express yourself; perhaps through poetry, art, one word or a sentence that begins with “Grief is …”. Perhaps you’d like to share a whole post as Bereavedsingledad has done recently. Grief is messy and painful. Grief can feel awkward and heavy. Grief can leave you feeling isolated and alone. Let this space be your empty void to scream into, to feel a little lighter and get the pain off of your chest. You’ve read plenty of posts as told by Evee and myself, but this page is your space for your grief, as told by you.
A new happy that remembers the grief that robbed my family back in 2018 but shows up anyway. A happy that gives a little sad sigh at the end of each day and says “I wish I could facetime my mum”.
I enjoy your memory. The other day my flat and I cheersed our drinks for you. I laughed and felt giddy...
When you hold your thumb, try and think of a safe and calming space. This could be a place that you imagine, like a beach with the sound of the waves, or it could be a memory where you remember feel particularly calm. For me it is lying back on the trampoline, feeling warm by the evening sun, at about 12 years old.
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.
The whole experience felt really cathartic by letting go and accepting the pain of 2018, without letting go of our Mum.
