This time last year

"All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on."

We measure our life in weeks, months, years..

This was the year when a new "time frame" emerged for me.

28th of each month marks a day when I lost my mum.

I can't find the right word for it. The opposite of Birthdate, "Death" is not a word I can utter.

I say: "she's gone, I've lost her," as if that opens up a space of probability, of returning.

11 months without her.

People ask me - does it feel like the time flies or does it feel like its been forever ?

Both.

I exchanged voice messages with my mum every day, and the idea of not doing so even for a week seemed like forever.

So 11 months does feel like forever, but I look back, and it's a mili-second. Where did it go and what happened. A thief that attacks you from the back and is gone before you even realize.

My whole world has changed. Like the sun that always gives us light and warm, we don't know a life without it. That was my mum, she was the sun. Unconditional love and reassurance. A safe place.

Gone.

I am all on my own, a boat in a stormy river, trying to understand, to feel, to let go and surrender but also to control. To find a course forward, which way am I going.. and how do I find the calm and peace within me.

Part of me waits, holds on, not wanting to move any further from that time when we were together. But the current of time, the river of life takes you forward..

Life moves on. Calendar pages flip everyday. Time keeps going.

Your boss doesn't really care about your loss, there are sales goals that need to be hit. Your real-estate investment and the loan deadline is making you anxious, and the tax office is sending you follow-up emails. The dog needs to be walked, your little brother (or other family member) needs to be fed. The news keep shocking you, global warming and AI slightly scares you. And you make a follow-up appointment for your manicure.

Friends check in with you from time to time, but it's true that as the time moves on, they seem to be moving further and further away, whilst you are holding on to the grief, to the loss, to the emptiness.

To hold on and stay but also let go and move on.

I was told that first year will be the hardest, and as I approach the last month, there is this drowning sense that "i got it all wrong" ..

It's not a marathon that has a finish line, and a medal once you cross it. It's a year that rolls into the next year. Nothing changes.

The pain shrinks, but it has also expands.

Every-time you are really happy, there is an instant sense of grief, because you don't have that person to share the news, the happiness with.

Grief is like a glitter, after the New Years ball drops and the countdown is over, you return home, to your hopes and dreams. You shake off the glitter, but it's everywhere. It surprises you in the most unexpected moments.

A stranger who walks up to say they remember your mum, an old photo, memories, phrases, places, things you did together - they are all glitters, reminding of what once was, and is gone forever.

The thought "this time last year" is a refuge where I run to, where I hide, when I miss her. But those memories from last year are soaked with so much pain. So it's a painful refuge.

This time last year we spent in hospitals, Dr visits, chemo therapies and a drowning sense that things are getting worse and worse. Handful of pain-killers daily, unable to sleep, walk even.. cancer was eating away at my mums bodily functions.

In her mind, she never stopped believing, she never stopped fighting.

And I was a warrior by her side. We gave everything for this battle.

I read my old journal where I write, with so much shame, that "life would be easier for me if she is gone.." - a thought that felt so illegal, but true at the time, when I was helpless, on my knees, both physically and mentally exhausted.

I knew I did everything I could, but I also ask myself if I did enough.

I feel like I would do anything to have her back, but I also wouldn't ..

Grief is so incredibly complex, holding contradictory feelings at once. There is hope and relief. There is happiness and shame. There is anger and calm.

And there I am, on this time-line of healing, like a boat on the river, enduring the storm and looking up at the sky, to seek for the silver lining.

Wanting to stay and wanting to move forward..