When I woke up this morning, I knew I was in for a rough one.
I had a little pocket of tears that were going to be shed, and I had no choice in the matter. In the middle of the night, when I couldn't get back to sleep, on the bus to work and a sad song came through my headphones, when I looked at the "wall of Mum" that is the photos on my fridge door. Memories still make my heart drop into my shoes and my chest tight and anyone that asks me to talk about it is still greeted with monosyllabic answers, tight smiles and "yes, we are ok, being strong".
Its been three weeks today since Mum died.
Still gotta catch the bus to work, still gotta pack lunches, still listen to the kids tell me about their day, still smile and laugh, still watch movies and still waste time on Facebook but now... there is a small part of my brain that observes from a distance. Unsure of how to react. Sometimes it wants to scream and rage like a sweaty faced toddler, sometimes it wants a teddy bear to hug or better yet... Mum.
People are so kind and helpful. "Your Mum is with you, She is in your heart, Live life to the fullest to celebrate her, she was special, one of a kind and you are just like her". It helps, it really does and most of the time those sentiments are exactly true. Until, I wake and I know, I'm in for a rough one.
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