It’s been a year now since my Mum died. I debated whether I wanted to write this post since this isn’t a topic I have really written about before; But since this blog is more for me than for the few that read it, I felt I had reached a point where I did wantto write something. After a year I don’t find the tears coming so regularly but when I think about her, that tremendous ache and pressure in my chest is always there. I suspect it always will be.
It’s been a difficult year for me, my sister and even more so for my Father. Mum was, obviously, the corner stone of our family and we have all felt her loss acutely. Speaking of my own personal situation, I found it all the harder because knowing I was expecting H. Now H is here, I feel Mum’s absence more and more. I know she would have adored H and not having her to reach out to for support and guidance breaks my heart.
Throughout the year I have read various blog posts or articles from other mums who have lost their mothers. There were a couple that I really related to, the first being a blog post from The Unmumsy Mum in which she writes a letter to her mother who died when she was young. She says:
“Sometimes when I see other mums and daughters out together I feel like somebody is twisting my stomach.”
That is something I can truly relate to. I don’t resent others for having their Mum’s with them but I do wish I could have what they have. When my mind is distracted, I still occasionally think “Oh, I should send Mum a picture of that.” only for reality to suddenly hit.
The other more recent piece which I related to even more strongly was in the book ‘Things I Wish I’d Known: Women Tell the Truth About Motherhood‘. Chapter 12 (‘Motherhood: The Eternal Imprint’) is by a woman called Clover Stroud and whilst her mother lived until her seventies, she had an accident whilst Clover was young which meant she had to live the remainder of her life in a home with severe mental disabilities. A few things Clover wrote really stood out to me now I am a mother myself:
“…I’d already learned to mother my own children in her absence, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The pain of being a motherless mother hasn’t been dulled by time either.”
“Each baby I’ve had has made me feel: ‘So this is how she kissed me! And this is how she rocked me, fed me, soothed me, loved me.’ And so each baby has brought with it a growing sense of the enormity of her loss in my life, and in that baby’s life, too.”
They really summed-up some of my feelings and emotions about my Mum’s absence now H is here.
But I just try to regularly remind myself that whilst she is no longer physically here, she is always present in things that I do and say. So in that way, she is going to be there in the way I raise and care for H. And as time passes and the pain feels less raw, I hope I can tell H about all the things she did for my sister and I when we were younger so she can know her Nana even though she won’t be there.