On grief

[annwfyn]

Today, I found this piece in the Guardian:

Maggie died on 8 July, 1995. "I remember running away from the hospital," Lily says. "I couldn't believe birds were still singing, the world turning. I remember watching, in disbelief, as someone crossed the road as if nothing had happened." Every morning, she would wake and, for a second, not know her mother had gone – and then the news would hit her again. Even now, she gets upset about it – although she never can predict when she will be ambushed. She would like to be able to ask her mother's advice about the big decisions in her life. She minds that, when she has children herself, they will not have a grandmother. She remembers now how tiring grief was. And, although that has lifted: "I don't think the pain goes away, you just get used to it. There is a hole inside of me but I know it is part of me."

It came from this article on a series of centres for cancer sufferers - 'Maggie's Centres' - the original idea for which came from a woman dying of cancer. The article is mostly very interesting, but that paragraph hit me quite hard. It's almost exactly what I feel but often struggle to articulate.

I do still mourn Mum and in a way I'm glad I do. I once tried to tell someone I was glad they were still missing someone they had lost and I think it came across horrifically badly - like I thought they might forget them otherwise - but what I was trying to say is that that ongoing sense of missing someone is, I think, a part of how much we loved people, a part of keeping them a part of our lives, part of us. And I think that can be a positive thing.

Um. I think that still comes across badly, right? Maybe I'm just trying to justify and give some meaning to the fact that I do still miss Mum and it does still hurt, at odd times, at times when I don't expect it. On my birthday, which was our shared birthday, I burst into tears twice over the fact that she wasn't there, that I was on my own, that my life was changing and every day I seemed to change more and more into someone she wouldn't have known, wouldn't have recognised. That scares me.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this now. Probably nowhere and I ought to wrap up. I just found that paragraph in a newspaper article and it struck home. So I thought I'd share it.

Comments

[kathminchin.livejournal.com]

I read that article and cried.

I think that as long as I live I will miss my grandparents; Mark's grandmother ... heck I occasionally miss our cats and my hamsters.

I don't think that anyone would fault anyone for missing their mum.

[becky-spence.livejournal.com]

Yes. This. All of this.

[adze.livejournal.com]

No, it doesn't come across badly at all.

[madwitch.livejournal.com]

I know exactly what you mean, because this is how I feel about my Dad.

[commlal.livejournal.com]

Even given the history between me and my father I still miss him. I can't play Guitar Hero without thinking about him because I know he would have love it.

I call them "Dead Dad Days" and I am quite comfortable with the sadness they bring. I work with someone who lost her father 15years ago and she still has them too.

[ozisim.livejournal.com]

I still miss my grandmother.
And I still write her letters and tell her what is going on in my life.
And I still sign them "love and best wishes from your tall granddaughter"'.
(Even though it doesn't matter anymore that she doesn't remember my name.)

[seph-hazard.livejournal.com]

No, that doesn't come across badly. I understand exactly. I think it is like this for all of us.