Surviving Mother’s Day

This time last year was a completely different story.

I went for a surf with some girlfriends early but it was cold & quite heavily overcast. And I was wearing a brand new steamer (full length wetsuit) for the first time.

I could barely move in the thing. Turns out adolescent boys’ steamers ARE a different cut to women’s (that’s what you get for trying to save some dollars). So catching waves was difficult, which put me in a bad place. And that’s where it went awry.

There were a few hot tears…. then actual sobs. Yep, I was bawling in the ocean. I told the friend nearest to me, “I can’t do this” and left. Somehow I must’ve calmed down enough to get to my car, pack up and leave without anyone seeing (or commenting) on my state, but at home I lost it again, having a shower in the very place where Mum had had the fall that put her in hospital for the very last time. I kept seeing her laying in that contorted position, helpless, painful & pitiful on the shower floor.

I put on jeans, a purple woollen skivvy with light woollen vest over the top and my ugh shoes and I lay on the couch. I don’t know what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop crying. At some stage, a charity collector came to the door and I was entirely unashamed with my swollen eyes & tearstained face to turn him away. He didn’t seem offended in the slightest.

Another girlfriend came by to check on me, trying to convince me to get out of the house but I wanted to wallow. I needed to.A Life in Words

They say the ‘first’ of everything is the hardest. I have to agree. In fact, apart from the first 24-48 hours after her death, nothing compared to that day, in terms of grief. Not my birthday, not even her birthday, nor Christmas or the anniversary of her death. Mother’s Day 2013 was my most intense experience of grief.

Today does not compare.

It’s warmer, it’s sunny and I had a better time in the surf. I can thank her – or the Universe (or whatever) – for these circumstances, but the important thing is really that I have found Peace, myself. I still miss her and it really doesn’t take much for my eyes to well up (hey, it’s happening now…) but my heart is not aching because I know she’s with me. She always will be, now that she’s free of the ‘meat suit’ the rest of us are trapped in. This is Comforting. And Comfort naturally allays Grief.

I love you, Judi. But we both know you know that.x

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