Happy birthday

The week before her birthday it seems is another tricky time. I use the word ‘tricky’ to play it down I think. In the absence of a more fitting word for the muddled, indescribable feelings you experience approximately one whole week before a significant date. People who have not experienced such loss will not know of this feeling. They are forgiven for thinking that the actual day will be the challenge but it’s not. Birthdays, which includes all of them, Hers, mine, Eliza’s, my sister and brothers, nieces and nephew, Dad, my deceased grandparents, all of them. Christmas and new year and my wedding anniversary even. Every significant date including the anniversary of her death gives way to this week, (yes a full week) of a nagging, unsettling feeling. A general feeling of being short tempered and distracted and painfully sad. Thank goodness it’s nearly over.

Tomorrow is her birthday and it’s the second we have had without her. The picture was taken the night before her 61st birthday when I’d snook out of the house and round to my sisters to collect the flowers we had hidden there. She loved flowers. Lilies were her favourites. Tulips second. She loved reading and so in the bag there were two books I’d chosen for her.

Looking back at this I’m comforted to know that we showed her and told her she was loved. She had to have died knowing this. It may not have cost much but all of her favourite things so surely she knew what we felt. On that day at least.

There is no knowing this for certain of course but I tell myself it in some attempt to make myself feel better. To take away the guilt of those days when I maybe didn’t let her know how loved she was. The days we all have when we take for granted what we have. I’m still not ready for platitudes like “at least you had her for the time you had” or “at least she got to meet Eliza” I’m not ready for that shit yet. I’m so angry. Furious that I will never see or speak to her again. I’m still so so sad that I cry until I can’t breathe. On a random morning driving to work or night as I try and sleep or when Eliza says “my Nanna’s in the Sky” Yes it’s less but it happens and when you least expect it and it is crushing.

For tomorrow at least I know a calm will come over me and I’ll feel ok. Isn’t grief strange? Only those reading this who truly know will understand what I’m talking about and for this I am sorry. I so wish you didn’t.

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