Mum's Got Cancer; Part Eighteen

As you know; Mum died, four weeks ago. I haven't really felt like writing - even though I have had ideas of what I could write about.

In truth I have felt pretty numb. I have been confused by my lack of feelings towards the death of the greatest influencer in my life. In fact I have been worried that I am devoid of emotion.

Yes I have sobbed and been upset but not felt the devastation that seems to warrant the condolences that people pass my way.

Then I realise that maybe I am at the bottom of a well, sat on the dark damp stones and unable to see anything above me - not even a glimmer of light. Maybe I am at the bottom of a hill or the top of a precipice. I really don't know.

The long and short of it is that there is no set way to feel or to grieve. I feel like I will be hit by a wrecking ball (hopefully one not ridden by Miley Cyrus) at any moment. Or I wish that I could just sleep all of this away.

I dream that mum is ill. I dream that she is alive. I forget that she died. And I am still not ready to recognise her in the past tense.

Last night I cried. In fact I sobbed big ugly gasps. Distraught. And it was due to the fact that I had had such a great day and I couldn't tell her all about it. And I know she would have loved it too.

To be blunt it is shit and I feel crap and sad and alone and so many other things too. And whats-more I know my little Spud is hurting too.

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Mum's Got Cancer; Part Four

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