almost 6 years

They say grief comes in cycles. Around and around go the emotions. One day you rock it, the next week you cruise through, and maybe a day later, or a whole week in a row you ache to hear her voice. You ache to tell her everything. You wish more than anything for her to come back into your life.

I am 35, and it is almost 6 years since I lost my mum. I still cry for her. I actually sob for her. Like a little kid that has just fallen over and grazed her knee. I still yearn for my mum. 

With my life being awesome, it makes it harder. I want to tell her all the awesome. I want to tell her that I am so happy. That I am raising these two beautiful children, and I think I am doing it the best I can. I wish I could sit down with her over a coffee, a shared sandwich, and half a piece of cake each. I wish I could laugh with her. Walk on the beach like we used to. Walk for miles with no care in the world, and talk about our days. The dreams we have. Make light of the crap things in our lives. 

I want to tell her that I wish she had never gone. I want to tell her that the noise of sirens scares me. That my heart falls into the pit of my stomach when I hear that noise. I want to tell her that I wish I saved her. I wish I did more. Even just to know she was going to die, so I could have just laid with her. I want to tell her that I cannot go back to Canberra because she is not there. And one day to face that fear I am going to run a marathon there, and take her with me.

Getting my teeth done is so big. It is huge for me. Hard to even put into words to explain why it is so huge for me. I know that she would be proud to know that her daughter will truly smile, and show how happy I am inside. I just wish that she was here to see that. I wish mum was here to see that I continue to become stronger as a woman, a better mother, how I believe in myself, that I accept my flaws, (and sure hope those around me accept them too), taking the good bits of myself, and sharing them with others, and how I don't give up. I keep ploughing through.

The cycles. 

I hate that mum is not here

It fucking hurts

I miss her

I see her sometimes

I hear her

I suffer denial

I sometimes have moments where I go to call her

I never deleted her number out of my phone. I cannot do it

acceptance. breathing.

talking to her, even though she won't talk back!

telling my children about her

I know I can never bring her back. And I will continue to be the daughter she always hoped I would become. 

Fuck I miss you mum.