Mum

My Mum died 14 months ago very suddenly. I remember the moment I found out vividly.

I was driving to the tip to get rid of some accumulated crap and, just as turned off the main road onto the trading estate it was situated in, my sister called to let me know. 

It was like a kick in the heart.

Then I calmly finished the journey, unloaded the rubbish and drove home. 

From that moment until last week I never understood why I never felt as much as I thought I was supposed to feel. I got though the planning for the funeral, the day itself, the aftermath, the pain of untangling my life with my ex-wife that was happening at the same time, without any out-pouring of much emotion.

What on earth was wrong with me? I wasn't prepared to try and feel how others maybe thought I should, but it was weird. People who know me understand I'm not afraid to show my feelings, I'm lucky to have friends, who share, who talk.

Not a thing.

Then a few weeks ago, my nephew had his first child and a picture of my Dad, with the tiny bundle of joy, without my mother, made me feel something different.

For a week I didn't know why, then I realised the absence of my Mum in that picture had finally hit home, because it made me think of my time with her as a little boy.

Then, like some mental pinyatta split open, visceral memories tumbled out. 

My way of dealing with the death of my mother was to block out all those wonderful memories. 

How we used to cuddle on the sofa watching finger bobs after playgroup.

Her teaching me know to make lasagne.

The way her curly hair felt on my cheek when we hugged. 

Her over competitive spirit playing cards.

Her kindness yet frustrating lack of filter. 

So many memories forcing their way out.

She was so worried about me being alone.

I wished she could have met the new person in my life.

Seen my son transitioning into a teenager.

I wish I could have shared the pride and terror of my younger daughter becoming a young women.

Retaining her innocence and joy, yet sharp as a razor. 

Finally I am grieving for her properly. Honouring her memory by remembering her. 

Pain is a part of being alive.

Death is a part of being alive.

Avoidance of pain is dumb.

I miss you Mum.