I feel as though I am slowly sinking into thick black tar. My clothes feel like lead, pulling me under even more, weighing heavy against my lungs making it difficult to breathe. I don’t have the strength to put out my arm and reach for help. I feel completely overcome with grief for my mum. I feel debilitated.
Wish that I could’ve frozen time Halted it completely in its tracks Made it that the bells wouldn’t chime That you wouldn’t fade to black Wish I…… Read more “As Told By Ken”
The intensity of your grief is in direct proportion to the deep love you had for them. This is not something you can skip over, ignore, or run away from.
Most of all, I don’t want to be the odd one out among a new group of friends. So, I avoid the conversation and protect them, myself, my mum, and my grief.
We have settled on the fact that we will look back on lockdown like an unlikely friend. It sure was life changing.
So grateful to have been able to breathe easily. Hope this gives you some peace, as well.
What alarmed me most was the vacantness in her eyes as if being present was too much to bear.
I thought I knew grief but this was different.
I lay in the sun, and saw a spider. It was a tiny smudge against the blue. Long, desperate webs trailed from its body like a single stitch that bore witness to the little life hurtling through the sky. Rather than fix him in a physical place, this web stitched the spider into my mind. I often come back to him.
Thank you for being here. Thank you to the silent readers who don’t comment. Thank you to the readers who do comment. Thank you to the people who come from our social media. Thank you to the people who stumble across our blog and never come back. Thank you to the people who keep coming back. Thank you for being here with me as I grow and navigate this world without my Mum.
I wonder if I’ll ever come to terms with the fact that you aren’t here anymore. Will I ever be comfortable when September comes around and brings…… Read more “It’s Been a Year”