Sometimes I feel so ‘full’ that I could burst. I’ll look around & see people enjoying themselves; shiny happy people as ‘REM’ coined them.
I feel overcome with a sense of enormous emotion , you know the kind? Warm ,fuzzy and all consuming. You are so glad to be alive, surrounded by the most amazing friends and family . You feel like you could combust with happiness . You want to group hug everybody.
July … what does it mean to you ?
For me it’s the start of a long hot summer [hopefully] alfresco ‘everything’ in the garden , weekends away, my best friends birthday.
It is also a painful reminder that in just a few days time, 2 years ago , my mum and best friend died.
July 10th at 3.40pm in palliative care with Dad & I sat by her bedside.
I’ll not lie I’m in a weird-ass mood
Morning ,
I’m posting something a bit different today …
Please bear with me and let me know what your think ; also let me explain.
I have mentioned this on previous occasions, so I’m sorry if you feel I am going over old ground; but there is not one day since we lost mum that I’ve not thought about her at some point . Sometimes it’s a fleeting memory and it disappears as quickly as it popped into my head. Sometimes my thoughts linger around for hours. Sometimes I remember and I smile , sometimes I’m reduced to tears.
We walk . I talk mostly . Mollie annoyingly stops every 2 seconds to sniff anything and everything [mainly other dogs bums] and my dad asks me for the 16th time “you have got poo bags haven’t you?”
Have I got poo bags?
I’m queen bloody poo bag
Today they are strategically stuck in the top of my pants. The jacket and trousers I’m wearing have no pockets , the bags are easily accessible via the top of my leggings. I show dad the corner of one of the them popping out . He just gives me ‘that’ look and shakes his head. Yes dad I have poo bags.
In-between the ‘chit-chat’ I talk about mum in an attempt to get him to open up more. Sometimes it’s awkward; I sense it makes him uncomfortable. Dad gets teary and quickly changes the subject … but today it’s somehow ok .
He tells me it’s their 51st wedding anniversary in a few weeks and we reminisce for a while. I love talking about mum. This pleases me.
Over the past months I’ve learnt to become ‘friends’ with my grief. That may sound ridiculous but for as long as I am around I never want to forget a thing about my mum . I want to keep her alive; to talk about her, remember her … that’s normal behaviour right?
I guess I can’t have one without the other so I welcome my emotions wholeheartedly ; I figure the only way to move forward is to let them wash over me any which way they choose – come and go as they please so to say .Be that in the way of tears , laughter or everything in-between.
I’ve found nobody talks about death ; how to deal with losing a parent . It’s a conversation nobody wants , so you muggle through the best you can. In the dark without a torch.
Grief has no pattern. It hits you at unexpected times and places . It can be short and quick – a fleeting memory that strikes you down [ remember Portuguese tarts in Sainsbury’s ] Sometimes it lingers and your stuck on an emotional roller-coaster for however long that ride decides to last.
I guess grief will become my norm. Just like breathing, eating and sleeping it will become routine…not always so raw, but always there bubbling underneath the surface.
So please bear with me I am still ‘healing and adjusting’ … at the same time please don’t ever tell me to get over my grief because that would be like saying get over your mum …
I pondered over these thoughts today with dad . He is used to me , I was a ‘deep’ child. I didn’t think I was making much sense to be honest , but he nodded his head in agreement, his eyes glazed over and he said
“If there’s one thing I’ll never forget Tracey it’s your mum … never ever … how could I ?…”
[ I smile and we carry on walking in silence for a few seconds]
“Now you did say you had poo bags didn’t you ?”
x
It’s funny how things change isn’t it?
I used to spend every Saturday morning having coffee and putting the world to rights with my Mum. We would sit and chat ; happy in each other’s company. I used to look forward to our few hours together. Talking about everything and nothing.
Mum & Daughter time 💗
Saturday mornings these days are spent with my Dad in Sainsbury’s . I take him for his weekly ‘big’ shop, to make sure he’s eating and to have a little chat as we wander aimlessly up and down the aisles.
While I’d move heaven, earth and more to turn back the clock and have a coffee with Mum, hear her laughter, see her beautiful smile, give her a cuddle … I kinda appreciate the time I’m spending with my Dad, even if it is only deciding which ‘ready meal’ he should have…
Life is a whole load of highs and lows, good times and bad . I guess we move through life adjusting to our circumstances … even when sometimes we don’t want too.
If there’s one piece of advice I could give you it’s this:
Thrive in the good times, make lots of beautiful memories and love unconditionally ; believe me these will help you get through the low and sad times .
If you’re really lucky you’ll find it brings you closer to someone you’ve known all your life …
Your Dad 💗
x
Today’s post is actually something I wrote on Instagram earlier but felt I wanted to share on here too …
I wasn’t sure whether to write this post . I fear I’m just going over the same old ground, repeating myself … but then that’s grief for you. You are constantly reliving moments , remembering and dealing with them. How you felt at the time. How you feel now. I guess that’s what it will be like forever … only maybe [ and hopefully] not so raw?
Firstly there is nothing pretty about death. It is what it is …
Death is an all-consuming sadness , it’s dark and it’s morbid. It’s feeling constantly sick and not being able to catch your breath. Death is final.
Our memories however… they don’t have to be. Our memories can be whatever we want them to be – fluffy, bright pink and vibrant just-like the person whose passed .
How’s that saying go…. “there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel”. I figure I’m still in my tunnel , bumbling around in the dark. Somewhere in the middle, scrapping away and searching for answers. I occasionally catch glimpses but mostly I’m still in darkness grabbing the light where I can.
On July 10th it will be a year … 365 days … 52 weeks … since we lost my mum. Vicious, beautiful, full of life. She was 72 and taken far too early .
Cancer is one cruel bastard.