It’s that time of year again.
The dark, grey and brooding time.
When no matter how warm and bright it is outside, I just can’t seem to see the sun.
It’s not that I want to feel this way, I just can’t seem to help it. I can’t seem to shake the knowledge of what lies around the corner.
You see, Saturday the 7th of May should have been my Mums 62nd birthday. Then Sunday is Mother’s Day. So two big, nasty, emotional days right on top of each other. Not even giving me room to catch my breath.
This is the 3rd birthday that she hasn’t been here for, the 3rd Mother’s Day without her. It should be starting to feel normal….but it’s not. It just feels so wrong. Thinking about it makes me feel so empty. Only I’m not empty, I’m full of the sharp and shattered pieces of what used to be, what should still be. What will never be again. The jagged edges of pain feel like they cut into my very being, leaving me broken and bleeding.
Yet in some small way I relish the pain, I perversely don’t want it to end. Because maybe when the pain ends, when the pieces are not so sharp, maybe my memories will be blunted too. Maybe I will start to forget. And the thought of that feels like losing her all over again.
So I take a deep breath, calm myself, and walk through the darkness. I know there is light there. I know there is warmth.
I know that no matter what, no matter where, I will always feel my Mum in the sunshine.