16/09/2020
. My recent experience of losing my mum👩👧
Greif.
It's deep emptiness.
It's a black hole of despair and sadness.
It's waking up and having to relive that traumatic realisation for the first time over and over again. Every time you wake.
Or fearing going to sleep because you worry what your dreams may bring.
It's waking up after a dream about them and wanting to text or call them to tell them how much you miss them. Hoping that it was all just a nightmare.
It's warped time, a vortex.
It's wanting to be in two places at once. Anxiety.
It's watching the world go back to their normal when nothing about your world will ever be normal again.
It's hearing a song that used to make you happy only for it to make your stomach churn in memory of what you once had and what you've lost.
It's wondering how you will ever get your joy back.
It's ruminating on all the things you could have, should have, said or done while they were here.
It's wondering if things could have been different somehow. If you could have changed this outcome. If either of you deserved this final curtain call.
It's physical pain in your chest and heart. It's heavy. It's raw.
It's watching people shy away from asking how you are because they fear it may upset you.
It's making people uncomfortable when they do ask and your pain floods your cheeks.
It's feeling completely ripped off and robbed of the years you thought you had left.
It's counting, and marking, each milestone without them. The 'firsts' are the hardest.
It's equal parts happy and sad for the life you've shared together and the life you've lost.
It's losing the future you thought you had and having to accept the future which lies ahead.
It's wishing it was someone else, then feeling guilty because you wouldn't wish that on anyone else.
It's bad skin, loss of eyelashes, headaches, dizziness and hollow sunken eyes.
It's standing in the checkout line watching families interact and thinking how lucky they are. A bizarre juxtaposition of hyperlapse and slow motion.
It's brief happiness when you think you have seen your loved one's face. A momentarily high that quickly dissipates. You sinks to an incredible low once you realise that experience was impossible. Forever no more.
It's the deep lump in your throat throbbing as you try to contain the tears until you are alone.
It's slowly losing the ability to remember their voice or laugh. Fearing that time will soon completely steal that away from you also.
It's coming to terms with the ticking of an unwinding clock. Life.
It's a sign that their life mattered. That they were irreplaceable. Unique. Special.
It's living each moment to it's fullest because you know how short life is.
It's honoring the things you said you would do together but put off because you were busy.
It’s living these physical experiences for the both of you now.
It's holding on to the one good thing left in a terrible situation. You will having an angel waiting for you when your time comes.
It's the price we pay for love 💔
Greif.
