I know grief, I've been here before and I'll be here again. Grief is a way of honouring someone we love and I embrace this feeling, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.
The sadness is so deep it's painful. It hurts to breath. It hurts to think. It hurts to be.
And it happens at inconvenient times, like this morning. Out of nowhere, I remembered back to those final days we spent together unaware that these were our last lucid moments together. It makes those days all the more beautiful because they were authentic and kind.
I'd taken the week off work to spend a few days alone with my mum while my dad had some respite. What a beautiful opportunity to care and love my mum in her final days, I will be forever grateful that I had this time, just the two of us.
We sat together and talked and laughed about life while watching insipid TV shows which she loved. Neighbours, Home and Away, The Project. Her mind was slowly going and she thought the characters were her friends and family; it gave her comfort watching these characters and connecting with their lives. It gave me comfort that she had something like these shows to look forward to.
That week I cooked for her. I loved my mums kitchen and it was brilliant to have an excuse to make her some meals with love. I made chicken and mushroom risotto, and then I baked a chocolate cake.
In the weeks prior she wasn't really eating, so it was a surprise and a pleasure that she ate two plates of my risotto and then an entire slice of cake. My mum was an amazing cook, and sadly I didn't inherit her skills. I'm not known in my family for my culinary skills, so her appetite to my cooking made me feel really proud, I genuinely loved preparing that food for my mum.
I also bathed and toiletted her, just as she would have done for me many years ago. As an extremely proud woman, this would have been so humiliating for her so I performed my duties with absolute love. I made sure she knew that nothing was a bother. I hope she felt it.
One afternoon after her nurse had left, I massaged her feet and legs with essential oils and moisturising cream. Slowly and lovingly, it was such a beautiful moment and I felt proud that I could do something for her that gave her some relief from pain. I loved her so much in that moment, and I know she loved me back.
What a beautiful memory for me to have of those final days with my mum.
It's been 6 months and I've done everything in my power to avoid the grief cycle.
Extreme dieting. Extreme exercise. Extreme distraction.
And now it's hit me with one small trigger of the memory of those final days. As I write this with a face full of tears, a dear friend sent me a link out of the blue about depression and disease (Depression and Disease) which reminded me that its normal to feel sad and lost.
The sadness is so deep it's painful. It hurts to breath. It hurts to think. It hurts to be.
And it happens at inconvenient times, like this morning. Out of nowhere, I remembered back to those final days we spent together unaware that these were our last lucid moments together. It makes those days all the more beautiful because they were authentic and kind.
I'd taken the week off work to spend a few days alone with my mum while my dad had some respite. What a beautiful opportunity to care and love my mum in her final days, I will be forever grateful that I had this time, just the two of us.
We sat together and talked and laughed about life while watching insipid TV shows which she loved. Neighbours, Home and Away, The Project. Her mind was slowly going and she thought the characters were her friends and family; it gave her comfort watching these characters and connecting with their lives. It gave me comfort that she had something like these shows to look forward to.
That week I cooked for her. I loved my mums kitchen and it was brilliant to have an excuse to make her some meals with love. I made chicken and mushroom risotto, and then I baked a chocolate cake.
In the weeks prior she wasn't really eating, so it was a surprise and a pleasure that she ate two plates of my risotto and then an entire slice of cake. My mum was an amazing cook, and sadly I didn't inherit her skills. I'm not known in my family for my culinary skills, so her appetite to my cooking made me feel really proud, I genuinely loved preparing that food for my mum.
I also bathed and toiletted her, just as she would have done for me many years ago. As an extremely proud woman, this would have been so humiliating for her so I performed my duties with absolute love. I made sure she knew that nothing was a bother. I hope she felt it.
One afternoon after her nurse had left, I massaged her feet and legs with essential oils and moisturising cream. Slowly and lovingly, it was such a beautiful moment and I felt proud that I could do something for her that gave her some relief from pain. I loved her so much in that moment, and I know she loved me back.
What a beautiful memory for me to have of those final days with my mum.
It's been 6 months and I've done everything in my power to avoid the grief cycle.
Extreme dieting. Extreme exercise. Extreme distraction.
And now it's hit me with one small trigger of the memory of those final days. As I write this with a face full of tears, a dear friend sent me a link out of the blue about depression and disease (Depression and Disease) which reminded me that its normal to feel sad and lost.
