Tag: grief

On love. And grief.

This morning I woke up feeling uneasy and a little bit tearful. I had a very strong sense of my mom, who died just over two years ago.

It felt kinda weird.

When my mother died, she was ready. She’d been ill for a long time and her death had come as a relief. We also hadn’t had the best relationship.

I’m not sure I ever mourned properly.

Yet over the last few months I’ve had feelings. I see a lipstick colour and think how much my mother would’ve loved that particular pink.

Or I eat something and can almost hear her saying ‘Oh god how absolutely delicious is this.’

The same lipstick colour I love.  The same words I would use.

I am more like my mother than I ever want to let on.

I suddenly miss her. Not all the time but at the most unexpected moments.

I didn’t miss her for the first two years. Maybe I was getting used to her death. Maybe I was in denial.

Maybe I was still holding on to anger that I should’ve let go of a long time ago. Anger that if I look at it today, I directed at her, probably unfairly.

I have learned that grief comes slowly. It can happen out of the blue.

And when it comes, it throws you.

I splashed water over my face, made myself some coffee and opened my computer.


And there was a picture of my mom, my beautiful mother, under ‘Memories’.



And also, perfect.

I took a deep breath in.

Hi Mom, I said. 

Her eyes twinkled in the photograph.

But then, they always twinkled.

I love you, I said. I miss you.

And then I cried a little bit more, closed my computer and went to the shops.

To get something delicious to eat.  And to buy the lipstick.

As she would’ve wanted me to do.