My Mam died 2 years ago yesterday

An anniversary of a significant death takes us right back to the day it happened. Its no longer just another day like any other day, because it’s now become the day that defines the beginning of the end. A day we want to avoid, but must live through anyways.

This year was different to last …

Last year I wasn’t really grieving the loss of my Mam in the same way as I am today. Although I acknowledged her death and felt the sadness, I was in a different mindset and living in a very different reality. My attention was focused on her transition, not her death. I was opening up to spirit, which is why I didn’t miss Mam in the same way as I do now. I suppose it didn’t really feel like she was gone, because I sensed her presence with me, and I still do.

My struggle was adjusting to the change

On the 1st anniversary of my Mam’s death, I stepped into a future with the man I was in relationship with, so I was a little more hopeful. In reflection, I was dancing around grief. It was too hard to admit to myself that Mam was gone from my life forever. At the time, it was easier to think of her as still being with me in spirit. But eventually, in time, we’re all forced to confront our uglier truths and live the harsher realities.

My world is a little darker without my Mam in it, which is why I like to think of her spirit as being a shining light in my life. I like to think she is guiding me through the darkness, when my own light has faded and I feel lost. It’s true what they say, when we have nothing left to hold onto, we hold onto our faith.

My struggle is with my own thoughts

Life goes on as they say, which is a total crock of shit because life doesn’t just go on. When someone significant is removed from our lives, the world as we knew it has been shattered into pieces. Life no longer makes sense to us, and we struggle to make sense of the world again.

To be honest it kinda feels like life has stood still because I feel stuck, unable to move forward. My sister’s and I can’t really move on until Yam is sorted. And I’m still conflicted with wanting to be with my family and needing to follow my own path, but the path is still unclear.

Grief is complex within itself because we don’t just mourn the loss of our loved ones, its the remaking of our own lives. This anniversary my grief is even more complex because since loosing Mam, my relationship ended, we lost our Dad, I lost my best friend, my job no longer feels like my work and I’m unsure what my work is, life is even more uncertain and I’m in the midst of a personal crisis.

My struggle is with life, not death

Yesterday I was alone with my grief and I didn’t sit well with it. I didn’t really want to be alone, but I was. I didn’t really want to be sober, but I was. With an impressive $3 in the bank until pay day, I couldn’t afford the booze anyway. I couldn’t comfort myself with food because there’s fuck all in the cupboards, nothing comforting anyways. I didn’t have loan of a car because I had already loaned my son’s, so I could get to work and earn the money I need. And I barely had enough energy to lift my head off the pillow, so I wasn’t gonna walk anywhere. So, in all honesty I kinda felt forced to sit with it.

In the morning I sent a message to afew people. But I wonder, who would have reached out to me if I hadn’t sent it ? I wonder, if anyone other than my sisters and Mam’s best mate would have known how hard that day was ? I often wonder who are the people who truly give a shit about how I am ? I wonder because on one of the hardest days of my life, I looked around and I was alone. No one popped in to check on me and no one dropped by to give me a hug, which was upsetting.

It scares me to think about how many people have taken their lives for less. It scares the hell out of me to think about how alone I feel right now. Yet alone I must be because I obviously need to learn how to BE with myself, even when I don’t want to be. At least, I hope that’s the reason why, because I don’t want to believe the voices telling me it’s because I haven’t done enough for others. Because I give as much of myself as I can.

Truth is, I’m once again at the rocky bottom. It doesn’t get any easier to start over in life, but I suppose we do get stronger. I don’t feel strong, but I figure I must have some strength because I’m still here. Having lived through another day I didn’t really want to live through.

I still want to get drunk, but today I don’t want to eat because I have no cravings or appetite. I’m still sitting with the same painful memories, distressing thoughts and uncomfortable emotions.

So, inbetween naps, I write, I process and I feel it ALL because I believe, the only way out is through. Sure, I could go around it, jump over it or avoid it all together, but I choose to live my truth, even when it’s hard to do. Because my parents taught me that life is precious. Worth fighting for even when life is hard to live. So, I keep pushing through my mountain of shit, turning it into the compost that will be nourishing my growth. Knowing that this too shall pass.