So I think this i the last post I am going to write about grief – not because the grief has gone, but because it just feels like the right time.
My mum died in April 2015 after a 12 month cruel and harrowing battle with Oseophageal Cancer. She had many many set backs, the most serious being a broken hip after a fall in hospital, a subsequent delay in her cancer treatment and a near fatal collapse in Arrowe Park Hospital.
Her death to me was so very sad, I was on my own with her and she just drifted away. My heart broke into a million pieces and if I am being honest, I don’t think it will never be properly healed. I mean – how am I supposed to be in a world where my mum isn’t? My world perspective changed, my sleep pattern changed and I have to be honest, I turned into a complete crier! I am now in floods at the slightest thing.
However, on a more positive note, things have greatly improved with time just proving that cliches do exist. I still do think about her most days, but I don’t find myself near tears each day. I am now able to think about her and smile and remember the happy times. For a while all I could remember was the last year of her life, which was pretty miserable and so now I look at photos and think about good stuff again.
I will always miss my mum and be a bit jealous of people that still have theirs. I am going to have to navigate the second half of my life without my mum and that is quite something to wrap my head around. Sometimes I feel adrift and if I am being honest, sometimes it’s freeing. My mum was nothing if a bit judgy sometimes – so cards on table, her not rolling her eyes at my holiday or house choices is something now that just leaves me with a wry smile.
People say that things get better with time and I hate to admit it, but they are right. Who knew.
Mum in Whiston Hospital February 2015.