First posted in October 2019. We have grown so much more than we ever thought we would, and we want to share our earlier posts. We aim to reflect on the early struggles of our grief, and what we went through without our mum. We are proud of where we have come from, and of where we are going. We hope you are as well.
If you are struggling with your grief, that is okay. You are not alone.
It’s been a little while hasn’t it?
I managed to move in to that affordable flat that I was willing the universe to send to me through endless manifestations and positive thinking.
A lovely flat with my friend and my dear cat, Daisy. A flat that is so much more spacious and quiet than I ever thought possible for London.
Much like how I decorate my new room with little trinkets (some new, some brought from Devon), I now decorate my days with activities, new and old. Activities that I want to do.
Once again, Sundays have become my favourite day of the week. My phone is turned off, I catch up with Great British Bake Off, and I practice painting with watercolours. I’ve joined the library too and have spent countless hours cuddled up with my cat just reading.
This new room reflects my mind. It’s mine now. I haven’t been able to say that since, gosh, I don’t remember when. Memories aren’t forced upon me of the time Mum was ill and- no. There’s a calmness now.
This space is mine, my time is mine, my mind is mine. I share it with who I want to.
What a luxury.
Someone told me once that I’d be happy, but I’d be alone.
Reflecting on that comment, I catch myself smiling sometimes. After such chaos what a luxury to finally feel so peaceful on my own? What a luxury to be able to be so self-centred, so selfish? What a luxury, to have normal complaints that friends my own age can relate to? What a luxury to moan and laugh about our troubles with men rather than query what type of landlord insurance I need and how the heck do I declare tax? What a luxury to make a last minute decision to go to that party and wake up the next day covered in glitter and hazy memories from the night before – What a luxury to feel 24?
Sometimes, not knowing what to do with this new-found freedom, I just lie back on my bed. I revel in the morning sunshine that casts rainbows all over my my bedroom walls, refracting through the sun catcher hanging in my window.
Mum would love these rainbows.
Inevitably, I also think of the growing space between us now. The distance, but also the space that time has created over these last 14 months.
London has been a drastic change from Devon. I’ve started a job that she will never hear about. I’ll never tell her my London anecdotes. I’ll never again hear her say “Oh, I just love the theatre, you must go, you must!”
I see countless faces on the tube every day. In all of them, I still search for hers. And I wonder, is my mum less real in a place where none of these faces knew hers?
Is my mum less real in my new flat, in my “new” life that she will never visit?
Copyright © 2019 The Grief Reality. All Rights Reserved