Mum's Got Cancer; Part Sixteen

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

Comments

100 Sad Days: Day 29 La La La

Not all abuse in a relationship is physical. Just like all illnesses are not obvious. Although they are "mental" it doesn't make them any less significant. An Open Letter: Your words are often harsh and I let them float over my head. I know it's not you thinking. It's alcohol, it's tiredness, it's money, it's family, it's drugs, its work, it's whatever excuse I decide to label it with to move on. Sometimes they cut so deep. Putting small cracks in my heart that need love to fill the gaps. When this happens forgiveness takes a little longer. When it is constant the opposite happens and I pull down the shutters. I stop feeling. I stop caring. I am numb. This is when I want to never wake up. And then there are the unforgivable things. The venomous words spat from your mouth. Not in anger. Not in rage. Just in hate and apathy. What do I do with those? Where do I go from there?

Mum's Got Cancer; Part Four

Can we ask just one thing of you:- Please stop asking me how Mum is. I know you mean well and you honestly do care; you want to know that she is ok: but we can't tell you that. In fact we are tired of having to repeat ourselves and remind ourselves that Mum isn't going to get better. That this is it. That we can't help her but can on;y make her comfortable. Maybe ask how I am, or if there is anything you can do, or just give us a hug. Maybe just squeeze our shoulder and don't say anyhting. If we want to talk, I promise, we will. Sometimes, like my Blog, it is cathartic. Other times it hurts in a way I cannot explain. The best thing to do is send a message, a text, an email, and if/when we feel like it we will respond. Forgive us if we see you are calling and cannot take your call. It is tiring, emotionally, to drag our way through a conversation we do not want to have. We know you care and we don't want to appear rude but...

I Hate Smoking

Let's be honest: it's a mug's game. My main memories of my Granny are of her with a cigarette in hand, of being sent to the "cabin" to buy her mentholated Dunhill. Add to that the memory of my time with my Dad shared always with a cigarette - one after the other. Of the chorus of coughing in the mornings and of now watching him struggle, with COPD, knowing this is a terminal illness that was brought upon himself. Supposedly my Grandma died of old age (but i reckon it was the cancer that got her first) and despite my Dad giving up smoking over eight years ago the years of damage have taken their toll. I chose a path away from cigarettes and I don't mind telling people how stupid I think they are for smoking - friends, family, strangers. We are all touched by cancer at some point and I recently got the all clear after twelve long years of close attention. I am thankful that it was caught before I needed anything other than day treatment and b...

My Blog Bubble

Search This Blog