Pretending

In an effort to pretend nothing has changed I switched on my previous phone and there it was. My last text conversations with my mum. I can hear her voice in my head. I want to wrap those words around me like a warm blanket. Two days ago it would have been her 56th birthday. It was also seven months to the day since she died. Yesterday it was two years since she was given her diagnosis. It's been a weekend of trying to suppress all emotions in an effort to survive. Self defense. But now. When the weekend is over. And the silence is catching up. Everything just hits me. And I don't know where to go. I can't believe that I will never ever ever see her again. Or talk to her. Or hug her. How can that be true?

It's always there

Some days it just hits you. Knocks the wind out of you. And it's happening all over again. You're sitting next to her bed holding her hand. You're telling her it's okay, that we'll be okay. And you watch as she stops breathing. And the world just goes quiet.

And then you realise it's actually been almost seven months. But it will never stop happening. And you curl up into a ball and let it all out. Because the pain and the longing and the frustration is just too much.

Time

Today I have lit candles all around my apartment. They are all burning for you my beloved mum. Six months have passed. And I need all the light in the world to keep me away from the dark.

Six months. Half a year.
Time is such a strange thing. It feels like it all happened yeterday. In a way I hope it always will feel like that. Like it was only yesterday that she was here. But it's been half a year. And time has crawled by at a ridiculously slow pace. Each individual day has felt like forever. But as a whole, the six months went by like a blink of an eye.

I wish you were here. I will never stop wishing that.

It's raining outside

I close my eyes and pretend everything is alright. Only, I can't because it's too painful. I pretend she's here, and that we're laughing and joking and living. But I find myself unable to breathe, and instead I open my eyes. Because it's too painful.

I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don't know who has the energy to listen to me. To hear me out. I want to throw something. I want to shout. I want to fall apart. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop being okay in front of people. I want to do something so they know it's not okay. So they know I am broken and bleeding and falling apart.

I want my life back they way it used to be. I don't know what to do with all this pain.

I feel like people are disappearing. But I think it's me that's pulling away. I don't know how to deal with this, so how can I expect others to stick around for it?

Talk

I hate that I'm starting to feel like I can't talk about my grief to people because it's now almost been five minutes. Not talking to the people close to me about it doesn't give them credit enough, nor help me. But it's just so difficult. So instead I sit on my own and fall apart.

I never knew it was possible to miss someone this much.

Seconds

The sharp pain in your chest when you close to hear your mother's voice in your head and it takes a couple of seconds before you can hear it.

It might just have been seconds. But it was seconds. And I'm scared that it will turn into more seconds until I can't hear you anymore.

I want to make more memories with you. We weren't done. And that is so unfair.

Pissed off

And there I stood. Not quite sure what to feel. I always thought I'd feel sad. But I just felt disappointed. And angry. So angry.

The worst part is that they still haven't been able to say it to me clearly. "We can't offer you more work." Instead they hide behind big words and excuses and pretend they're still looking into it. When it's obvious between the lines that the chances are zero for that to happen.

Hypocrisy. And extremely poor leadership.

Typical TCK

This is not how I thought my life would be. And I can't help but wonder. Should I go back?

I feel like I don't belong here. Maybe I should listen to that voice?

Confused...

I'm also right on time. Coming up on two years. I can feel the TCK gene pulling. I shouldn't be too surprised.