Today, at 2.20pm one year ago, was when I discovered that my mum had died and my whole world fell apart. I have literally been staring at my computer screen for days trying to figure out how to write this post and, to be honest, I wish I wasn’t writing it. I wish that my mum hadn’t died and that she was still dozing peacefully in her chair…but she’s not and that is why I’m struggling to write.
There are so many things I wish I could tell her and could apologise for.
I’m sorry that I ever lied to you about anything.
I’m sorry that I never made you proud even though you told people I did make you proud.
I’m sorry that you never got to walk me down the aisle.
I’m sorry that I never gave you grand-children.
I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to gotten hold over my mental health.
There are a lot of things I’m sorry for and that I regret, but one of the biggest I have is that I wasn’t there for you when you died. I was too late to reassure you that everything would be okay and that you didn’t have to worry about leaving me. I wasn’t there to hold your hand in case you were scared of dying. This train of thought has remained with me over the last year and, even though I still regret not being there, I’ve discovered that I’m actually a little glad that I was late. I don’t think I’d have been able to cope with seeing you go right before me.
I’ve dealt with a death anniversary before when Dad passed away and today bears the same constant ache deep within my chest and burn within my eyes. How can people be laughing and singing outside when you’re not here any more? It’s typical that this anniversary has exactly the same weather as last year. I had planned to go up to the nursing home she’d stayed in to pay respects to the last place where she’d been alive but it was too difficult. It’s been literally impossible to even leave my flat today so I’ve been playing the music she loved and watching the England match, grinning over the fact that you’d be complaining about watching ‘the rich boys kicking a stupid ball around’. We did love sport so I think you would have been happy to see them getting 6 goals.
Every anniversary will be different.
The first one will always be the hardest.
After this, it’ll become the norm. You’ll remember them and maybe even do something special in their honour, but they will get easier. It’ll be 18 years next year for my dad and it isn’t as difficult to go on with my dad. Yes, I get sad that he isn’t here to see certain things but I know that he’ll have my mum by his side and watching over me. Some of the handy things that helped me over the last year were being shown some sites and numbers that I was able to contact whenever my grief tried to overwhelm me. Here are the few that really helped:
If you have a first death anniversary coming for your loved one this year, we’re all here for you and so are they.