I am grateful

There has been some anger. Intermittently. Less than I expected. And yet, as I described in The natural order of things, there is nothing so grossly unnatural or twisted about losing my mum now.  Losing her is devastating of course, unfair, paralysing, and the rollercoaster hurtles through panic, fear, inconsolation, desparation, anxiety and more. I shouldn’t be an orphan at 34. And yet, despite how quickly and harshly the progression of the last few months, despite 71 being no age to go, despite 2 months not being in any way long enough to say goodbye, despite all this, there is an awful lot I am grateful for.

I am grateful that I had a mum so utterly dedicated to her children. A mum with a natural instinct to love and protect.

I am grateful that we had 34 years – rich, memory-filled years full of poignant, sometime magical moments.

I am grateful that my mum was here to welcome both my boys into this world. I am grateful for the tears she shed, and the cuddles she gave and received.

I am grateful that my mum saw me married. Watched as my family was built on love and trust, and that she was reassured at the end, that I was in good hands.

I am grateful for the precious few months we had before she went. The time to talk, to tell eachother all the things we needed to, to express our love in moments of enforced clarity.

I am grateful that I was there at the end. That I got to hold her hand as she passed away. That the moment was peaceful, without pain or fear, that she was surrounded by two proud, loving daughters, the air filled with the music that she loved.

I am grateful for that music. That when I listen to it I can feel connected to her in a way that is indescribably perfect,incomparable to any physical thing, spiritual even. A truly wondrous gift.

I am grateful for her strength, pride and devotion; for the lessons she taught me, and the person I was able to become.

I am grateful for all these gifts, and more.

Many people don’t have half of what I have. Some much less. What a lucky girl I am.

The natural order of things

Losing my mum stinks. I miss her with an ache, an emptiness that throbs away in the pit of my stomach, a sadness that never dissipates.   Tears are rare for they seem pointless.  I have nowhere to go with my grief, cannot replace what is lost, or make it better with a good cry or a restful night’s sleep.

But sitting alongside and comforting me, holding my hand and pushing my chin up, is the sense that somehow at least, this is the natural order of things. A few years too early – ten, maybe even twenty years but not unnatural, grossly distorted or sickeningly unfair.  Every child must lose their mother. Though I wouldn’t choose it, I can carry it.

If I had lost my mother just 12 months ago, 6 months even,  I fear I would have fallen apart. Still lacking confidence, unsure of who I was or what I would become. But things have changed for me this past year; I have felt myself grow stronger, more centred, calmer, and I seem strangely prepared, more accepting.  More than this, since the day my mum died I have felt as if all her strength, dignity, calm has been transposed into me. Her gift. And it seems to carry me, even in my darkest moments.

Every child must lose their mother, and it is the task of the parent to prepare them for that. To give them the skills, the fortitude, the drive to live their lives.  My mum gave all this to me, and  though I ache for her, long for it to be different, I  sense that this is my time, that she is there willing me on, that this is what life is about. Me and my babies. Nature’s cycle.

And I think about the infants that lose their mothers before the nurturing has come to an end.  To me that is unnatural and devastating. Everyone must lose their mother, but not before they have given their blessing and passed over the mantel freely and with love.