Thursday, 28 April 2016

About Tomorrow

This never gets any easier.
The notion that grief fades or somehow lestens is absolute bullshit. Tomorrow is the four year anniversary of my Mother's death and it has not gotten any easier. I even miss her more because now she is also missing my daughter's birthday.

I try to do things to distract myself. Because, really, that is all you can do. You have to put it away or else you won't be able to function. Grief is probably the most complicated emotion humans have next to love. They both make you crazy and can destroy life as you know it.

Grief has made me dark and pushed my mind in directions that I didn't know it had. She was the light in my darkness. My daughter has renued that light, but the darkness is a bigger part of me now then it was.

Tomorrow also marks the day I went into labour, my daughter was born a full day and a bit later (tomorrow being friday, her birthday is on Sunday). I think about it more then I probably should, because it was hard and I didn't have my Mother there to help. I didn't have a Mother to come spend the night those first early days, like my friends Mother's did. I don't even know much about my Mother's pregnancies or labours, I found a letter she wrote about the day I was born months after the fact.

My Daughter is, by far, the greatest blessing in my life. I am always confused when a couple refers to their partner as the love of their life. Don't get me wrong, my husband is my great romantic love, but my daughter is the love of my life. I understand now how my Mother filled her life with other passions then romantic love, because your children fill so much of your heart that it brings you a type of fulfillment that romatic love just doesn't provide.

I am always afraid that I will never be as good of a Mom as she was. There are times when I feel like I am failing, like during a bedtime battle, and I think of her and what she would do. I think of her as I lay on my daughter's bedroom floor beside her crib, praying that she will sleep soon. I know I may never be as good, but if I strive to be maybe I will touch that some times and that means a little piece of her is still living.

I have a picture on my personal facebook of her and I, I am probably two or three and she would be in her mid thirties (so similar to I am now), and we're standing in a lake with a sunset behind us. I captioned the photo 'As I sit alone, I sit with you'.
Because that is how I truly feel, and if you are reading this and grieving I would like to leave you with that thought.
Think that when you are alone, they are there. As I sit alone, I sit with you. It has brought me some solice. Comfort has escaped me long ago.

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