My Blog Bubble

Take every day as it comes.  Grief is consuming - just like love.  In fact many quotes state that grief is, in fact, love in a new form. We walk our own paths and just ask for your support along the way.  I don't know where this path leads and how I am meant to deal with it, what I need to equip myself with.   I have the love of my family and friends and the possibility of counselling.  I have a million tears and all the time in the world. I have a long journey ahead and I am not sure it comes to an end, maybe I stumble less, along the way. I have really angry days.  Days where everything irritates me.  Days where everything reminds me.  Days I feel numb.  Days I feel sad.  Days I cry.  Days I laugh.  Days I pretend. Your caring doesn't go unnoticed - I love you for every smile and kind word you say or send.  The hugs.  Thank you for joining me on my journey - my expedition party.

I am still numb. Not sure how to feel. Everyone tells me they are sorry for my loss and seem almost more upset from me. I don't understand what is happening.   I am told it will blindside me at some point and I guess I am waiting for that.   It hit me yesterday that maybe the reason I am not yet grieving is that I cannot, in my head, justify the person we are placing in a box is you; Mum.   I saw you diminish before my eyes and life slowly ebb away. That person that was left wasn't you. Not my Mum. My mum is was full of life and optimistic.   The person I wish I hadn't kissed on the head, lying dead on that bed, wasn't you.   Although there is a smile on my face when I think of the party popper in your hand that I had left on your pillow the night before. Go and celebrate that you made it there on your own terms.   Love you Mum x www.justgiving.co.uk/chrisgelling

Here I am wishing your body would give in. I can't believe I am wanting my mum's body to die. And I say your body as I think that is all that is left. Your spirit has moved on already.   Last night it hit me what that means. Wishing my own mother dead. Not being able to speak to you anymore. Not hearing your funny stories or see you smiling face.   Not being able to see the joy in your eyes when you see your grandchildren.   Not being able to walk along the beach with you.   Not watching the tv with you and drinking tea.   No more nonsense conversations where no one can keep up outside of you, Rachel and I.   No more Mum. No more Mum.   www.justgiving.co.uk/chrisgelling

I'm angry. I am so angry my jaw hurts from clenching my teeth together.   Death is a cruel master. Why hasn't he taken Mum yet?   Watching my Mum, once so full of life, lying on a hospital bed barely alive hurts. There is nothing of mum left. I am angry that it is raping me of my memories of Mum; of what she used to look like.   Mum hasn't eaten in a week; not drunk anything and yet she is still here. Her heart is strong and her lungs keep going. Everything else is ravaged by cancer. I truly believe her soul left on Monday - when she stopped communicating. She wants it to end but there is no let up.   We convince ourselves she will go when she is ready and that she is waiting for something or someone.   Peace?   We have given her that. Leslie? She is here now. The only thing it could be is that she set a date in her head of 2 March and maybe she HAS to make that. Or maybe death is just cruel. This constant treadmill is tiring.