Hard to believe it’s been a month. Four weeks ago to the date she breathed her last conscious breath. Four days later she died.
My mind feels cloudy, my body, heavy. Like I’m a candle slowly melting. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling. There is a sense of relief in letting go. Not so much a letting go of my mother, I expect that will take a long while if at all, but accepting who I am in this moment. Accepting that my life has changed, I’ve changed, my family’s changed. How I exist in the world is no longer the same. Twenty-nine days ago I was a different person. Twenty-nine days ago my life changed forever.
I know a sense of normalcy will eventually surface but from what I hear it will be a new “normal”. And that makes sense to me. I don’t feel a sense of hopelessness but an anxious anticipation of what is ahead. The grief journey is new to me. I don’t know what to expect or how I will “best” get through this. Something tells me that perhaps it would be best to accept that I don’t know. What I do know is I need to take it day by day, moment by moment. And be kind to myself; kind to others. Comfort myself, let myself be comforted by others. The road ahead seems dark, but I have to believe this too shall pass.