Mourning The Future

See, when someone close to you passes away you grieve for your loss. You have your memories in your heart, mementoes to treasure and photographs to look back on which provides a sliver of comfort in the darkest hours. 

It’s been 16 months since I lost my Mother and I think I am now slowly coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t coming back. 

For a long time I believed that I was doing things for a purpose and that she would somehow come back to give her seal of approval, but I am now trying my hardest to accept she has gone. Mourning what you have lost is so hard – but what I am struggling more and more with is the fact that the future too had been robbed. And the is proving all too much. 

You see, the past provides memories but the future seems vast, bleak and just empty. 

As I see the girls pottering about playing in my parents garden pangs of extreme sadness engulfed me. Her words when I was pregnant of “I can’t wait to see them walking in here together” hauntingly echoing through the walls each time we step into her house. 

This innocent act of them toddling around stung at me as I realised yet again what she is missing. Here they are in her garden and she’s not here to see it. She isn’t going to wander over and show them where their Mommy fell off her bunny bike and made her nose bleed nor will she lift them up to pick the blackberries in the hedge at the bottom of the garden nor can she shout her friend over the fence to come and see her pride and joy. 

It’s heart wrenching to know that every new day there are precious little moments that would have meant so much to her and I can’t share them with her. The small little things that I wouldn’t think of sharing with most were always the things that meant the most to us both that we could share and giggle at. 

I feel like my whole life is always going to be like this. May sound dramatic. May upset people but that’s how I feel. No happy day can ever be 100% happy because there will always be an ache in my heart, my eyes will prick and throat go dry when that all familiar lump appears because something has triggered this awful grief. 

She should be here!! Why isn’t she here? This is all she wanted. She wanted simply to be Granny and watch her girls grow like she did with her Charlie boy. 

And I so bloody wish she was here. To stand next to me and giggle at P2s silly dancing and Awww at P1s beautifully kind nature all whilst being amazed at how big and wonderful Charlie has gotten. 

Instead, I stand alone. The empty space next to me feels magnified as I have no one there to turn to and share the silly little moments with. I walk into the house and the sofa she sat seems desolate and lost without her. There’s no fanfare when they walk in – and the cruelest of all, she never once got to see them walk in the house together. Another dream unfulfilled. 

People tell me with time it this grieving process gets easier and whilst in one respect it has, in every other respect its getting worse. The thought of not having her here for the rest of my life is  somewhat unbearable. 

I feel like everything will always have the taste of her loss hanging over it. I can never ever smile with all of me. She was too young to die. There was too much left we never got to do. There is so much she has missed and Jesus Christ there’s way too much that she is going to miss. Cancer has quite simply ruined my family – and our future. Every smile will always have a slight shadow over it. 

I just really really miss my Mom. 

B xx 

[this is exactly how I am feeling right now. Grief is not a competition as to who has suffered the most. Nor does grief have an expiry date]