I approach this Thursday with trepidation and tears. On Thursday it will be 20 years since my Mother died. Yesterday was 20 years since my last conversation with her.
Where did those years go? How have I changed since?
I mourned, and still grieve what I have lost, and what my son has lost in not knowing his Grandmother.
I fell out of love. I moved house continually, as I searched for me.
I fell in love.
I became a parent – an orphan parent – whose offspring will never know their grandparents apart from the wild stories I can tell of them.
I became a Mortgaged wage slave, then sold that, downsized and became Mortgage free.
I lost good friends; to murder and cancer. Some “friends” could not stand me grieving, so they left me. But I gained good friends who are now my family. I treasure those who are not part of my life by choice.
I lost parts of my family, because the family fractured when my Mum died. I miss the closeness of being with those who were there through the days and years of my Mother’s last days.
I have had three separate careers…not including motherhood, and now am back to where my 16 year old self would have wanted me to be.
I still remember my last conversation with my mother even though her voice is now lost to me. I visit her in dreams, but wish she was here, just for a moment to see my life now.
I speak openly of my grief, I don’t hide it as society wishes me to.
I talk to those who have lost and are losing loved ones.
I have become so much more, but a small part of me wishes I had more years with my Mum and then my Dad.
The loss will always be with me.
Every action and reaction is formed by it.
It did not break me, just remade me, into a better me.