I miss her so much...

It's now twelve days since Mum died. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday, and at others it feels like an eternity.

All around the house are reminders of her: the cardigan she was wearing a few days before she went into hospital, draped over the back of her chair; her slippers in the bedroom; the unfinished vest she was knitting, with only the neck to finish off (but she just couldn't work out how to follow the pattern for that bit, so it was put aside. Now it will never be finished).

And of course, the reminders that she's not here: the empty towel rail in the bathroom, her empty bed and not having to sort her clothes from mine after I do the washing.

Every time I use the bathroom, I remember the many times I would sit on the chair in the corner when she was on the toilet; waiting for her recalcitrant bowels to move, and the particular way she had of folding the toilet paper before use, and tapping her hands on the hand basin when she had washed them. She once commented that it was a nice change to have someone to talk to when she was on the toilet.

I cry a lot. It sneaks up on me and then hits me, and I sob. At Mum's funeral, as I was greeting relatives and friends as they arrived, I would catch myself thinking, "I must tell Mum that so-and-so came". And then I realised... and I cried.

I miss her so much it hurts.

I should point out here that what I am experiencing is all part of the normal and healthy grief process. I know this, and I also know that the intensity of the feelings will fade with time. I don't need anyone to pat me on the head, hold my hand and tell me this. I know it. I experienced it when Dad died just over five years ago.

This is all stuff that I need to go through, and I don't need people to give me advice on how to handle it; I have my plans for that already. I write about it here and on Facebook because the act of writing helps me to process my thoughts and feelings; again an important part of the grief process.  I'm happy to share this process with those of you who read this. However, I'm aware that a number of my friends are also struggling with their own pain and grief right now, so some might find some of this a bit hard to read, and if so, I'm sorry for that.