Mum would love these rainbows.
For a person who epitomized life itself, it was a setback to be ravaged by cancer. A woman who was on her toes for most part of her day, it was upsetting to be confined to a bed. And, a lady who liked to dress up, losing her crowning glory to treatment was a massive blow.
I thought I’d never be able to endure this loss. But I suffered my biggest fear over the last 10 months and I’m still surviving it now. More than that, I finally feel as though I am in a position to start living again and putting myself back together.
Today, I bleed. In the space of a year, everything has changed.
I felt emotionally exhausted and wanted the opportunity to transfer this emotional struggle into a physical challenge that I could overcome, learn and develop from.
When I wake up, my heart doesn’t split into a thousand pieces. My head doesn’t pound with questions asking me why us, or how are we here. When I reach for a mug for my coffee, my hands don’t shake when I see Mum’s mug.
I wondered whether Mummy felt this way too when she was in hospital and whether I did enough to comfort her. I hope she never felt alone when she was with me.
That’s one of the most difficult things about losing my mum, I just want to tell her how difficult life is without her in it.
After the loss of our mum, we have tried several times to find information online about people in similar situations – to feel less alone, to get advice, to know that life can continue after all of the trauma. We couldn’t find anyone. So, we decided that we would become those people for others through The Grief Reality.
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.