Locked down, and unable to escape the leaks, my thoughts turned inward. I crept into some of the darkest crevices of my mind, shocked at some of the old relics I had found in distant memories.
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.
I wondered if it would be okay, me living alone. Waking up, cooking, watching TV. I was afraid I would be like that man from Up.
Writing on the blog is deeply personal. I imagine I sit you down, offer you tea, hold your hand and look you in the eyes. Whilst you may read this and throw it away, or never think of it again, I think of it every day. The power of you sitting with me, and giving me space to share my thoughts.
Friends are like stars: you don’t always realise they are there, but they are always shining.
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.
We cannot thank Bretta enough for sharing such a raw post about loving and losing her mum. So many people feel shame or guilt after losing their person; “if only I could have done or said…” Managing these tumultuous emotions can be the single most difficult thing to come to terms with. One day you will accept that you coped the best way you knew how to at the time, and when you are feeling stronger you will forgive yourself and take your person’s kindness with you. Thank you, Bretta.