So, yes I've been absent ... very absent. Four months to be precise.
Now that I look back, the time I ceased blogging exactly coincides with the time my mother was admitted to hospital with an unknown illness. Some of us were saying, oh she just needs to live healthier and it's all in her mind, she needs to think well.
Hindsight is 20/20. The very day those words came out of my mouth at my Aunty's funeral was the day it all took a turn for the worse. A week later my mother was gone.
I now have a newfound empathy for those whose loved ones die in hospital with tubes and fluids and distraught family members all around. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I can't bring myself to describe it here, but I can say that even with my belief that Mum lives on in heaven, it is very sad and extremely traumatic.
It's been almost three months now and I'm thankful for my beliefs as without them I suspect I'd be a depressed blubbery mess. I still get sad. I still cry. I am often a mess. I miss her so much.
But life carries on doesn't it. Babies still need nursing and nappies changed. Kids need dinner and clean clothes. Husband needs a listening ear for his career development (more on that later). And so we pick ourselves up, grit our teeth and carry on.
We adapt to a new world. One where I have to be a bit more resilient and independent. One where I fight the urge to pick up my phone to ask her a question about sewing, cooking, communication or relationships, or to use her as a sounding board on my parenting dilemmas and work ideas.
I don't think I'll really ever get over it. The pain fades a little, the trauma heals, but I will always miss her because she is my mum.
