Second Birthday Without You…What’s changed?

This month marks my Mums second anniversary Birthday. Last year I wrote about a year of firsts, but will this year be any different?

I haven’t written on my blog for quite some time now. What with the demands of family life, an ever increasing destructive toddler to chase and the end of my maternity leave and return to work, it is safe to say that I’ve had my hands pretty full. But that isn’t the only reason I haven’t written anything……

Before Christmas last year I found myself in unfamiliar territory. For the first time I noticed that my mum and her death wasn’t the only topic consuming my waking hours and my heart no longer panged at the thought of her. For so long, the opposite of this had been my reality. I had grown used to the majority of the time being preoccupied with the loss of my mother and the way in which she left this earth. My heart, although full of love for my daughter and continuing to grow with love every day, the painful pangs of grief still rendered me breathless and caused my heart to constrict with sadness.

And yet…here I was. I will be totally honest and say I freaked out. I kept asking myself “what does this mean?” and the conclusion I came to, which was predominantly born out of fear, was that I no longer missed my Mum. The horror that the woman who was the love of my life was now out of sight out of mind as they say, I think destroyed more that her physical loss. What was happening to me?

This shook my foundations and I no longer knew my grief. Once again it was an adversary that I had never met, but the biggest thing was that it made me question who I was a person. I placed a lot of credit on my pain as a symbol of my continued love and memory for my mum, without this pain I felt like i had not only lost my Mum physically but I was losing her from my heart. I was a terrible person.

My heart was the only place that she lived on.

As you can imagine, I needed some time to process this shift before I could begin to share it which is why I have been absent for so long.

But after allowing myself the space to understand my emotions and thoughts and to process them rationally, I have come to understand that this does not mean what I initially thought and the guilt I felt was unjust.

For so long I had lived with the pain and loss that we all experience when we lose a loved one. What I didn’t realise was that I had actually accepted that this was to be my reality for the rest of my life and I became ok with that. I even placed relevance on those feelings in that it meat that she was still part of my everyday reality and for that I was grateful. I needed that pain. What I also didn’t realise was that I not only needed the pain but I expected it. And that is where the problem lay.

Without knowing, I had placed an expectation on what I should feel like now I had lost my mum. This became detrimental because when my grief and feelings inevitably changed, I was unprepared, caught off guard and resorted to fear and panic to “cope”.

I felt that by living my life internally for the first time was the same as abandoning her and committing her to my history, to reside in my past alone.

Of course this is not the case and with hindsight and some rational adjustment I can see that this will never be the case. I believe the reason I came to these conclusions was because I was no longer grieving the way I thought I should. Grief is a journey, it is a path which is completely subjective, it can not be planned, it can not be avoided and it can not be hurried. Grief is a passage which must be travelled and experienced as you find it.

Once I stopped expecting to feel a certain way and I stopped trying to analyse the whys and wherefores, things became a lot easier to manage.

As humans we have to know everything don’t we. We have to know the whys: why do we feel this, or why do we feel that, where does it come from, what is the reason. But for man6y of us, and especially when talking about grief, there is no why. Either that or the why is not really that important. Knowing the reason for something doesn’t always change the outcome and rather than focusing our energies on the whys we should spend abit more time focusing on the feels. Accepting you current emotional state for what it is can sometimes be the antidote you need.

As with everyone and such is life, the ever present pain and overwhelming realisation that my Mum had died began to retreat. i began to feel ‘normal’ again, like my old self . I started to have hope, to look forward to the future and most importantly of all, I actually believed I had a future.

And what did I do to kick off this shift?

NOTHING

I didn’t purposefully do anything. It came out of nowhere, but I do believe my grief changed because of these 3 things:

1) I never tried to avoid, bury or ignore my grief. I embraced it and recognised that it was a part of who I had become.

2) I talked. I talked to my Mum, my husband and my family and friends. Having that safe outlet to pour my head into I believe helped me dramatically for without it I fear I would have been overcrowded by thoughts and feelings and well who knows the alternate future that may have been if I didn’t have this option.

3) Time. As with everything, nothing is permanent. Just like the weather, it won’t always rain but we have to wait it out. We’re unable to sustain one emotional sate indefinitely so it is inevitable that my grief would be no different. And I am sure that it will continue to do so for the rest of my life, sometimes positively and other times not so much.

Now I have allowed myself a period of adjustment I am ok with the change in my thoughts and feelings about my mums death and I can see a future that’s exciting. I am living my life on the inside now as well as the outside.

I still think of her, I still miss her and my gosh do I still love her and would do anything to squish her beautiful face again. She will forever be a part of my life regardless, it’s just now I am ok to keep going without her.

Big loves xxx

Dear Mum

The post I didn’t want to write but knew I would.


Here we are, or rather here I am, one year to the day since you died. It’s taken me a year to say that word. Before I could never say it purely because I didn’t want to. Who wants to say that their mum is dead? So I avoided it for as long as possible but today is the day I can’t ignore it.

For me it’s another day without you. The 365th day without you to be exact and it is the same as every other day without you; lonely, heart gripping and scary.

I never thought I would be sat here writing about living without you for a whole year but at the same time I also knew I would write to you today.

It’s strange because on the one hand it feels like you have been gone so much longer than a year and on the other it feels like no time has passed at all. I think about you everyday and I often wonder what would have happened if I had have been there this day last year. I often wonder whether I could have saved you. If not then I could have been there to hold your hand, comfort you and hold you the way you held me when you brought me into this world. I know you’d be telling me not to think like that and to concentrate on my own life but I will always feel that I let you down, that I wasn’t there at the only time you ever really needed me. I wasn’t there.

I hate that I don’t know where you are. That was one thing I could always guarantee was that you were always by my side or at least a phone call away. Now there is just silence. Now I’m not so sure where you are.

When you left you took a lot of me with you. I didn’t just lose a Mum, I lost a best friend, a true love, security, belonging, identity, my home and above all my trust. I don’t trust life anymore Mum. For a long time I struggled to find purpose to life.

Things have changed though Mum. I can smile and laugh again and actually feel it. A lot of that is down to Lady P, who you would just absolutely adore. I will never understand why it is you both could not meet and I know how devastated you would have been to have left before meeting her. But she has brought me back to life.

Everybody has been amazing this last year. I am so blessed to have the family and friends I do. You have no idea how loved and missed you are. You always thought that you weren’t that important, well I’ve got news for you gorgeous, you were and you still are. The only reason they are so good to me is because of you.

I suppose if this was to be a real conversation between us the one thing I would say to you is thank you. We never got to say goodbye. Our last conversation was the day before on my way home from work about everyday things. I didn’t get the opportunity to tell you some home truths so I’m telling you now and hope that you somehow know.

Thank you for always being selfless. You always put me first and gave me the opportunities in life that you didn’t have. I never realised just how much you sacrificed for me and I am eternally grateful to you.

I get it. Being a Mum now I completely understand your love for me and see your love in a new light. I get how I made you feel, why you did the things you did and said the things you did, I get it all. As you would say “welcome to my world”.

You got it right. Everything you did as a Mum was right and you did it well. Doubting myself as a Mum has shown me that every Mum experiences this and I realised I never told you that you were a great parent and you didn’t ever need to doubt yourself.

I’m also sorry, for so many things:

Sorry for not being there.

Sorry for not coming to see you at home when you died to say goodbye.

Sorry for all the times I put myself first.

Sorry for not noticing that you weren’t yourself.

Sorry for not knowing you had gone.

Sorry for not making the most of the time we had together.

And my biggest sorry is not holding you that bit longer the last time we saw each other and telling you that I loved you.

I didn’t want this to be a letter of apology but I am so sorry for a lot things. Your death has taught me about what truly matters in life; love and family.

So I love my daughter as a reflection of the love I had from you. I laugh with a heart born of a woman who was always laughing.

You are my Mum and that is something not even death can take away from me.