Six months gone.

It’s six months today that my mum died. This month has been tough, in fact this start of the year has been tough, lots of anniversaries and reminders: christmas, new year, my birthday, mum’s birthday, mothers day, they just keep coming. Sometimes I feel fine, or ok, then there are other days when all I think about is her, and I really feel like doing nothing else. Everything else feels trivial or pointless, I hate feeling like this, it’s not like me, but it’s hard to shake off.

Perhaps it just feels more final now. We spread her ashes and that I suppose is the final thing to do, now I just need to get used to living without her. It’s hard, especially when you do something new, even a small thing like move to a new flat, it’s something she will never see, she can never just pop over for a cup of tea, it’s these little things I miss.

Sitting under mum's tree.

One thought on “Six months gone.

  1. Dear Celine, (cherishing hug)
    Do you remember Sue’s remark, she is dusting? When I visited in 1986–I was in and out of the house, going places in London, returning. Sue said, once, with her great loving ordinariness as she made a dinner tray for you, she is in her room dusting her things. I understood she adored! you! and adored knowing you were busy making object arrangements. She, unlike many mums, held you as a full young woman in your right, doing what called to you; and she was supporting that with love. Moving to remember. Does cookbook call to you from time to time, whisper to you? Is there a chaos to dust– in your right? Could you journal your discovering this You, your Mum’s collaborator on this book. Love, jane

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