Yesterday was the 14th of August. Yesterday marked exactly one year since she’s been gone. I’m writing this now and I’m struggling to find words. I’m struggling so much I’m not even sure if I should be writing this at all.
I feel very full. I feel ready to burst with emotion. But, for whatever reason nothing is coming out. I thought that yesterday I would be a massive wreck. I was expecting everything to hit me all at once. I was expecting to be much worse than I was. Now I’m just kind of sat here looking for any outlet. Looking for anyway to express myself.
I catch myself wondering a lot of the time what it feels like to truly miss a person. I wonder if this is what it feels like to really miss someone. I wonder some days if I actually miss her at all. I wonder this because most days it still doesn’t feel real. I’m unsure most days if it’s really sunk in yet. You know, the fact she’s never coming back.
This year has gone in the blink of an eye. Quite literally flew over. So much has been going on that it’s been hard to think about her being missing at all. It sounds awful but that’s the harsh reality of losing someone. Missing her is hard so it’s easier to not think of her at all. It’s easier to appreciate every moment she’s missed alone than to think of what it would of been like if she was here. It’s so much easier to push her out of my mind whenever she decides to stop by.
Yesterday it sort of hit home that I hadn’t spoken to her in a year. It hit me that so much has changed as well as nothing really changing at all. I reflect on this past year and wonder how it would of been if she were still here. I wonder how her presence would of changed things, I wonder if things would of happened differently had she been here. I wonder what her advice would of been. I wonder what kind of Grandma she would of been. I wonder what colour nails she’d of chose for the summer. I wonder how she would of coped in the heat we’ve had this year. Its sad to not know where exactly it is that she is, it’s sad to not know how she’s feeling.
I’m sad to still wonder if she’s happy, if she’s sad, if she’s sorry, if she’s okay. When I think of Heaven, I imagine it to be like the end of Titanic, where little old Rose dies in her sleep and she’s back on the ship marrying Jack. No, I do not think my mam is aboard the Titanic. I think we all have our own heaven. The Titanic was Rose’s. My mam is definitely in hers. Waiting for us to one day join her. I wonder what her version of heaven is, I wonder what it looks like?
I’m always wondering but like I said most days it’s easier to not bother wondering at all. Most days it’s easier to be funny about it, I don’t do it for the shock factor, I do it because it’s easier to make a joke than to walk around with constant tears in my eyes. I speak bluntly about having a dead mother because what use is sugar coating it? I joke about death because it’s easier for me to cope that way.
A whole year later and I haven’t quite decided if I’m used to being a motherless daughter in my twenties. It’s a whole year later but sometimes it feels like yesterday. It’s a whole year later and sometimes I feel better and sometimes I feel worse. It’s a whole year later and I’m still just as confused by my emotions now as I was then. It’s a whole year later and everything is different but I still feel exactly the same. It’s a whole year later and it’s hard to believe she’s been gone this long. It’s a whole year later and its hard to believe she’s never coming back.
Thanks for reading x