I wanted to write something grand and beautiful. I have tried a few times now, to find words enough to express an experience so profound it has left me changed and very much in shock.
On the 8th of September 2018, at exactly 8:00am my mum died.
The drafts I have will likely be developed into content that will be shared in the near future. I hope to tell you more about my mum, she was an amazing woman who was compassionate and selfless through and through. She had so much love to give and all she ever asked in return was to be around the people she loved the most as often as she could be.
During her last week of life, she was a warrior, and she proved her strength and love in a six day battle that she gloriously ended. On my last full day with my mum I told her about Valhalla, I told her about the mead halls of vikings and warriors of great battles who she could regale with her tale. I can see her now bringing a rowdy hall to silence as she takes them on a long and rambling tale with many false starts and tangents. I can see them hanging on her every word.
I wanted to write about her sooner, to acknowledge what had happened. But the longer I left it the more difficult it seemed to write about. Even just writing it down makes it feel more absolute, writing about it makes it feel more real. No matter how much I want it to a lie to be false, I find myself having to come to terms with the fact that she is no longer a part of my physical life. Thankfully I still feel very close to her spirit and the love that she built into the fabric of everything she did, but I miss her dreadfully. I long to speak with her, to sit with her, even just to hold her one more time. But of course the finality of death is to accept that however much we want these things, we must accept that they are not to be.
Grief has been both horrific and beautiful. Trying to control it is like trying to control the tides, it comes and goes as it pleases, dynamic and ever changing. A reflection of life itself, which is also dynamic and changing. As painful as losing my mother has been, life has so far gone on relatively unhindered, and will continue to do so long after I rejoin her.
But before then I have a life to live. A life that I promised my mother would be as happy and full as I could make it. This was my final promise to my mother, and one that I intend on keeping.
Rest peacefully mum, your final battle may be over, but the legend of ‘The Beautiful Warrior’ has only just begun being told.