Dear Mum,

It’s been 948 days since you took your last laboured breath. Since I gently moved a piece of your fringe from your forehead and laid a sweet kiss there. Since I held your hand and told you I loved you and said good bye for the last time.

I can’t believe that it has been this long.  The days and weeks and months at times have gone so painfully slow. But there are days and weeks that have gone by in a quick blur. The birthdays and Christmases come around too quickly. So quickly that I’m often not prepared for them and then they leave me feeling empty. The birthdays and Christmases have not been the same without you mum. Gone are the fancy birthday cakes you would make for the boys, and the glasses of wine we would share in celebration; or for any occasion really! I want you to come back so we can do this again. I don’t want to just remember; I want to feel it again. I want to feel you, hug you, hold your hand and talk to you.

I miss talking to you and I struggle to remember how your voice sounded.  I often think of things to call you about and then remember that you won’t be there to answer. There are things that I want to ask you, your advice or opinion, which you often gave to me without even asking!  I also need to ask you where the old board games are and the tin of Lego that we had as kids, as we can’t find them.  So if you can send me a sign, I would appreciate it.

I hope you don’t mind that I am doing all this writing about you.  After you left I felt so lost and sad and for so long didn’t really feel I could talk to anyone about how I felt.  I had so much bottled up inside me that I couldn’t even find the happiness in simple daily life.  In hindsight I probably should have seen someone or confided in a friend, but I didn’t really know who; and to be honest no one really wants to talk about death and grief.  These are things that I would have spoken to you about mum, like we always did.  We talked about all this stuff before you died. We had so many frank discussions about it; but none of it prepared me for when you were gone.  That’s why I started writing, I could finally let it all out, in written words as I find the verbal words hard.  I can write how I feel so much better than I can say them. There are some things that I have written about that no one will ever see; but I needed to get that out of my head to feel freer and lighter.

The other thing I am struggling with mum, is where you are.  I’m sorry that I don’t visit the grave often, but when I do, I don’t feel you there and I feel I’m only going out of duty.  I look for signs that you are near, but find none. I get frustrated as others see their loved ones in butterflies or dragonflies or flowers. I don’t.

But a friend recently told me that the signs you are sending are in way of new friends that have come into my life over the last year. They are people you have sent to me to care for me physically and mentally. They are the people that have helped and guided me through my writing and allowed me to deal with loosing you.  They are the people that pulled me through the darker and sad times and are now helping me forge forward into new experiences and relationships.

As I have said before I struggle with this stuff, the signs and spiritual side of things.  My heart challenges my head every day; but I am choosing to believe in this sign. In my heart this feels right and I can visually see and talk to these people.  My heart is winning over my head for this one.

Thank you for doing this for me mum. Thank you for sending these people to me.  Thank you for seeing that I needed help and continuing to look after me. I hope you are proud of what I have done and will continue to do with The Emerging Chook and sharing all the wonderful things that you did in your short life.  This is my way of keeping you alive every day in my heart and thoughts.

As I sit here mum and write this letter to you, I have tears running down my cheeks. They are tears of gratitude for everything you did for me and the things you are continuing to do.

I love you to the moon and back.  Where ever you are, please keep watching over me.

xoxo

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8 Comments

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  1. Bawling my eyes out. You’re doing good chook, and when you share stuff like this you’re not just helping yourself.

    Your heart always knows, don’t let your head win on anything – it only thinks it knows.

    I remember feeling completely lost after dad died, and over 5 years the hits kept comming as we lost Poppa, Grandma, Nanna and Grandpa. I had no faith back then and couldn’t conceptualise where they had gone. Part of me just closed and was numb for years. (My heart closed, my head took over, I soldiered on – numb). I read a passage somewhere which helped me realise that I didn’t need to believe he’d gone to heaven any more than I needed to believe that he was just gone. He was still present because there’s a part of him in all of us girls. I know you’ve probably heard that – she’s alive in you, but take some time to contemplate, to explore. You don’t need to work to keep your mum alive – she did a really good job of creating her own legacy. As long as you choose to live you will express parts of her even when you don’t realise you are, as will your boys, as do Simon and his girls, uncle Malcolm, and everyone whose life she touched. We get on with life, with really living in our adjusted reality, because living honours the dead. And while we live we never forget.

    May you feel all there is to feel, and find Joy in small things. Lots of love to you beautiful cousin. ❤️❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

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