Motherless daughters

It’s been 10 years since my mum died, a day I’ll never forget because it was the day I died too. Losing a mother is a feeling only unique to those who have gone through it. Everybody deals with grief in different ways, navigating my grief over the last 10 years has been a journey in itself. I wanted to talk about my journey in a raw and unfiltered way, if you read and connect then I’ve done my job. To the motherless daughters..

I always imagined from a young age how I would react if or actually- when my mum would die. I played it over and over in my head for years but the reality was miles apart from what I had imagined. I quickly realised that nothing could’ve prepared me for this loss.

You don’t realise the trauma until you think back and remember certain details of the day they died or the funeral. I remember it all clearly from seeing my brothers breaking down after mum took her last breath to the random aunties forcing me to face my mums open casket. Shouting the words ‘Look at her! Remember her! FACE her so you don’t forget her face!’ — I don’t even know their names but I remember their voices and words so clearly. Almost like that moment overshadowed a day that should’ve been me remembering my mum. And how could I ever forget her beautiful face anyway?

I’ve always struggled with culture and religion; I just don’t know where I fit in and where I belong. But the one thing I always knew was that I belonged with my mum. So when I say I died when she did, its because that Amyy really did die. The world has never been the same, its been in permanent black and white since 23rd January 2016.

I’m not sure if I believe in the stages of grief as outlined by psychologists. Grief is personal and unique to everyone living in it. I felt anger 10 years ago and I still feel anger now. I felt upset 10 years ago and I still feel upset now. The feelings never go and when people say ‘it gets better’ well no it doesn’t, it gets harder — as she misses the big milestones, her grandchildren, seeing our achievements. Every big moment of my life, I’ve thought of my mum. Really, there isn’t a day she isn’t on my mind.

Grief changes your whole outlook on life, especially when its grieving for a parent. I was fearless and a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Now I can just about dip my toes in the sea at the beach because I have a fear that if I get in, I’ll die. So many things I enjoyed before Jan 2016 scare me now. I always have in my head ‘I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna risk it’ like mortality is finally a reality. I miss out on so much just by being afraid. And when you try to explain this to someone who doesn’t get it, you feel like you sound crazy.

I find myself talking to the sky in the hope that she can hear. I decorate her grave with endless flowers because I’ve missed out on years of giving her flowers for Mothers day and birthdays or just on random days where I felt like buying her flowers. I throw flowers in the water wherever I am in the world on her death annviersary in the hope that they would reach her one day. The small things you do to keep their memory alive and honour them.

Although grief has changed my life in many ways, it’s also made me feel incredibly thankful for the friends that I have in my life. Those who let you speak, scream, cry and don’t judge or give their opinion. They just listen and sometimes that’s all you need than someone constantly saying ‘I understand’, ‘it’ll get better’ because in your reality, it doesn’t get better. You just learn to live with all the love you couldn’t give. The colour comes back.. in small strokes at a time through children, travel, friends, art and family. My world canvas is still 70% black and white but I know slowly but surely that 70% will decrease. Music, friends, family and travel have been my 30% of colour, my hope is there that I won’t just see myself as a motherless daughter but just my mums daughter and the brush strokes of colour will get bigger.