I’ve been meaning to blog ever since Mum passed away. Despite my good intentions, thoughts of the blogosphere and my bloggy friends have fallen out of my head, about as quickly as they fell into it – like most things at the moment, I’m afraid.
It’s a very weird time. A friend said it’s like the plates of the earth have shifted and you have to recalibrate. Yep, it is like that. I read something that said it’s like stumbling up a staircase in the dark and putting your foot out for the last step, only to discover it’s not there. Yep, it’s like that, too. It’s also like being in a foreign country, where you don’t speak the language, only things are familiar – you just have to learn how to do everything all over again. Yep, that too.
Emotionally I’m up and down like a yo-yo, but trying hard not to numb, and trying just as hard to accept whatever comes. Those things are hard enough on their own, and then there’s all the emotions to deal with as well. Needless to say I’m exhausted. Mostly the mornings are the hardest, when I wake and discover it’s not a bad dream after all. I actually had a dream the other night that my mother had died, and I awoke, upset, thinking “what an awful dream”, only to discover it was my reality. The evenings are also hard (but getting easier), and the hours in between just pass in a blur.
I’ve found all sorts of thoughts popping into my mind. Things like:
- I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with other people.
- I don’t even know how much water the plants and flowers need.
- It’s my fault she died because I made them give her pain killers.
- She never taught me how to cook rhubarb.
- I wish I’d done more to help Mum, day-to-day and with her unpacking. I’ve found lots of things she hadn’t attended to, though usually she would have.
- I’ve cried; I’ve felt these feelings. Why won’t they stop?
- I miss our banter.
- Why couldn’t the doctors do anything to fix her?
- How is it that the sun still rises everyday? And people’s lives go on?
The battery in Mum’s phone ran out the other day. I couldn’t bear to turn it off after she passed away, and yet seeing the battery dead was like reliving her death all over again.
People (real and virtual) have been very kind. Some have tested my ability to be social, just because I don’t know what to say. Others have relived their own grief before me, leaving me to console them. The closest ones just ask how I am and accept whatever is there, allowing me to be in their company, but elsewhere at the same time.
Thanks to every one of you who has sent me messages of support. I truly do appreciate it, even if I haven’t been able to respond as I would have normally. I’m not sure where my head is at the moment, and no one can tell me when (or even if) it’s coming back.