It has been 3 years, 6 months and 1 day since my Mother died. I have woken up 1280 times without her being here. “Time will heal” is all I heard in the days, weeks and months after she passed away and I was so fed up of hearing it. Nothing would help I thought. My heart hurt even more. However, time did help. The continual empty thudding pain ion my chest gave way and life simply does move on. No matter how desperately you don’t want it to. You want to turn back time. You wish endlessly for things to be different, but acceptance creeps in and life then becomes more manageable. You cannot change the past but you have to move forward for the future.
In the last three and a half years, I have changed so much. My view on life did a complete 180 and flipped on its head. I became much more impulsive knowing tomorrow is not a given. I have less tolerance for bullshit knowing that I don’t want my life littered with pointless one way friendships and fakery. I felt so much happier for this. But I will never stop grieving, nor do I ever want to stop grieving.
Grieving helps me.
The emotional meltdowns where I sob so hard I struggle to breathe and cannot close my eyes as they are so red and puffy from such a release, in someway help me. Without them, I would feel like I am forgetting. I never ever want to forget what it feels like. The rawness of losing her takes me back to those ark days, but they were days when she was here.
Of course I look back with far far more happy memories and know how lucky I was to have the childhood I did, but in a bizarre way I am given comfort that she can still evoke all these feelings inside me. As time ticks on, it an feel like everyone is forgetting her yet to me, grief sits hidden inside me like a badge of honour. An honour that she will always be nearby.