I don’t even know where to begin this but writing is part of my catharsis so here goes. I guess this is what grief looks like. A long string of uncertainty – of mixed up feelings – like someone took all of the emotions a person can contain, put them in a bag and shook them around vigorously and laid them out in front of me, all mixed up. Here you go - here is your mind for the foreseeable future. Fear sitting beside hope, shock on top of love, sadness under gratitude.
This is what grief feels like.
What I’m starting to realise is that there is no rhythm to this; no expectation of what a day will bring when you are in the throes of grief.
My mum died.
I don’t know when that sentence will never look normal to me. Probably never.