This year has been mediocre, but not brilliant. I'll remember 2011 as a year where I've meddled and muddled my way through to December, getting to grips with the overhaul of changes in my life. I've smiled and laughed and purposefully made myself busy this year so as to have things to think about. I would say at times I was burning the candle at both ends. Escapism through seeing friends, going to a live show, exercise, taking on a college course, music, football, or even reading a good book were a great way of de-cluttering my wandering thoughts this year.
It's the times when I'm not busy, and when I'm not pre-occupied, which are the hardest. I just feel a pang, an ache, and knot in my stomach and that is my grief.
You see, my Mum passed away in October 2009. For the whole of that year I was at her bedside or was racing around to be beside her bedside in various hospitals while she was really poorly. She was diagnosed with stomach Cancer in February 2009 and seeing and being a real part of her sudden deterioration is a memory that will haunt and hurt me forever more.
I didn't really feel the grief of my Mum's loss until Spring this year. Up until that point I was numb and unable to communicate how I felt. Grief just hit me, when I realised I wouldn't see her again. I really desperately wanted to. I cried my eyes out good and proper.
This has occurred a lot more times throughout this past year. I don't share my feelings with many people, and I've realised that not many people actually truly know me. The one person who did know me, has now passed. I have to share my feelings with others in order for people to understand me better.
Counselling helped me massively. Before then I didn't talk about myself to anyone. I worried a great deal and thought more about other people. I did think that other people's feelings were more important than mine. I was lost. I have realised I have to put myself first. After all, I won't move on otherwise.
Alas, recently a new development has began to make me upset. My Dad found a new woman about six months ago on a dating website, and they've fallen head over heels in love with each other. It's the best thing that could have happened to Dad, but it has been like a knife to heart for me. I still live at home, and find their relationship increasingly awkward. They're really close. Unsettlingly close. Whenever his new love has visited to stay, I have wanted to run away and hide. In fact, I have done just that. She stayed the whole weekend a couple of times, and I've stayed at my Nan's house on both occasions. I have ran away, because that way I don't have to deal with it. I just can't see them together, or be in the same room as them, because it breaks my heart.
My Mum and Dad were close as a couple, and happily married since 1984. It was such a wonderful marriage; and we all knew how much they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Our family (Mum, Dad, Sis, myself) were the tightest knit quartet since the Beatles. So in losing Mum it shattered us all, especially my Dad. He really had some gloomy days, and we realised how much he couldn't be alone. He had to have company, and more specifically, a woman in his life. I just wish it was still with Mum.
I didn't meet Dad's new love until a month into their relationship. They were holding hands the first time I saw them. I looked away. I just couldn't take it. I feigned a nice "hello" and "how are you?" but I felt sick to the pit of my stomach.
It was as if Dad was betraying Mum. Of course I knew in my mind not to be so silly, but I couldn't help those crazy thoughts.
A week later, we had dinner as a foursome (Dad, Sis, her and myself) and at the table she sat in the seat opposite me, in front of the most beautiful picture on the Wall of my Mum. She was effectively blocking my view of Mum, and she was also sat in her seat. That mental image hurt so much, my belly twisted in knots and I couldn't eat the food.
They're just too close, but I've got to be happy for Dad's sake. This is my strife because I can't at the moment. He is a fantastic man, and he deserves happiness, but I just feel this relationship is so soon and sudden after the loss. But of course, it's not my life or my relationship. She is such a lovely woman too, but when I see her it's as if there's a veil of Mum across her that is blinkering my view. I know she is not replacing Mum, but it darn near feels like it currently.
I suppose the real truth is I am still living like my Mum will walk in through the door one day and everything will be OK. I am carrying on like that, and really want that last sentence to happen. It won't of course. Two weeks ago was Mum's birthday, and I wrote her a card, crying my eyes out in the process. I also wrote an Anniversary Card too recently, putting it on the kitchen side and subtly hinting to my Dad of how I felt about things. I don't do feelings with my Dad. It felt OK to write these cards, and I felt much better afterwards.
My Nan, my Aunt and my little Sister are the three people I can confide in at the moment, and all have told me to be confident and brave. I'm really going to have to. My friends, work colleagues and my football mates are great, but I won't talk much about what I've said above with them, because they're my distraction from the above, if that make sense. This also harks back to the point about keeping myself busy; which is, if I'm honest totally on purpose.
This Christmas, like the previous two, will again be tough and unnatural without Mum. She has played such a big role in my life how can I forget her? I am going to surround myself with family on the two Christmassy days, but her missing personality; her being the life and soul of the party will again twist my belly in knots.
My Aunty (Mum's elder Sister) is hosting us for dinner on Christmas Day, so the tough and unnatural loss feelings will be the same for her and her family. At the table we will probably even set a plate and raise a glass in Mum's honour. A huge Aunty hug on Christmas Day will be the perfect present for me.
Move on? I'm doing my best. I really am. I smile lots, and hope that my smiles are returned because cheerfulness and being upbeat is my way of dealing with loss. Sometimes I might not be so smiley, and that's when the above thoughts and feelings tend to be felt.
Grief Street is a longer, more arduous road than I expected, and this year it suddenly became quite hilly. Going into the New Year, I hope there's an easier downhill section soon. Will there be?
Finally to Mum, if you're reading this; ultimately this year I realised how much I darn well loved you. Merry Christmas. xxx
