Bring Me Sunshine.....

Last Sunday marked the 9th anniversary of my mam's passing.  I wrote a post last week about the date but then deleted it.  I considered writing the post again but ummed and awed.  My loss is such a personal thing and something that I have kept closely guarded for all of this time.  My mam was quite obviously a huge part of my life and now this blog has become a huge part of my life, so I thought that maybe I should write about it here.  If I am truly honest with myself yes, I set up this blog as a means of documenting my baking and to encourage me to bake more, but more than that I set it up in an effort to have some sort of a tangible link to my mam.  That's silly really, isn't it?  How can I expect to have a tangible link to her when I know that death is finite?  I can't, but I so desperately want one that I will do anything, believe anything to keep her spirit alive in my life.  Why?  Because that is all that I have left of her. 

I knew that my mam was going to die.  She was sick, and while she had periods of respite from her illness we were told a few weeks before her death that nothing more could be done.  I don't know what I felt at that time, I don't think I really felt anything.  What are you supposed to feel on hearing that news?  I know that I definitely did not want her to go.  Had I been asked to give up my right arm to save her I would have.  Had I been asked to give up my own life to save her I think I would have done that too.  Anything would have been more favourable than living my life without her.  But these options were not available, and as predicted 11 weeks later I held my mam's hand as she took her last breath. 

In that instant my life changed unimaginably.  My whole life was turned upside down and inside out.  I didn't know how to react to the situation, so I didn't.  I tried to numb myself from the reality of the situation and carry on.  The hardest thing to deal with was obviously the loss of my mam and the fact that I would never again see her or talk to her.  I wouldn't get anymore lipsticky kisses on my cheek or warm cuddles on the sofa.  I would never again hear her laugh or sing from the kitchen.  I hate this fact of life daily.  Hate it, and will never accept it.  The second hardest thing to deal with has been the loss of myself.  I was a different person right up until that moment.  I was happy.  To those around me I still look the same, still act the same and appear no different at all.  But I know otherwise.  I am quite a different person now and I always will be.  I mourned the loss of my mam and myself for a long time.  Last year I laughed one day and realised it was the first time I had heartily laughed for over 8 years.  Imagine that, eight years without laughing properly.  Of course I had laughed and found things amusing but it wasn't the laugh that I had been born with, it was a dead laugh.  I had forgotten how to be happy, or wouldn't allow myself to be.

On Sunday I went to the annual mass that we offer up in my mam's memory.  Afterwards we all spent some time in my dad's house and then we went our separate ways.  Mr. Boo and I stopped off at the cemetery and I chatted with her for a few minutes and then he brought me for lunch in an effort to make the day more bearable for me.  As we ate lunch talk turned to my birthday which at that stage was exactly three weeks away, it should also be the day that my mam would turn 65.  I always loved how special I felt that we shared the same birthday but now I feel guilty for looking forward to my birthday and enjoying the day.  I know that I shouldn't as we should all make the most of our birthday each year but I feel that I am somehow rubbing my families faces in it by getting excited.  Suddenly I was crying and asking Mr. Boo if it was OK to be excited about my birthday this year.  I will be 30 so a bit of a milestone as I enter into a new decade.  My 21st fell 3 weeks to the day after my mam had died and so passed without much pomp or ceremony as has each birthday that followed.  For the first time I am kind of happy that my birthday is approaching and I really want to celebrate it.  I am also aware that yet again it will be another sad day for me, my dad and my sisters.  Mr. Boo's answer was that of course it is OK for me to be excited about my birthday.  My next question was "is it OK for me to be happy again?", to which he responded with a resounding yes.  He told me that my mam would want me to be happy and to enjoy my birthday and every day.

He is right, she would want all of us to be happy again.  So while my heart is still very much broken, beyond all possible repair, and a little piece of me will forever be lost somewhere in the universe, I can be happy.  It is a different kind of happy than before, some of it's sparkle and lustre has been scratched away but it is enough.  I don't think I will ever feel completely guilt free in my happiness but that's OK, I can live with that.  I am entering into my 3rd decade(or is it my 4th?) with a new understanding and respect for myself.  I know that I am strong enough to handle the nasty changes that are inevitable as I move through my life and I am very comfortable with the person I have become.  Most importantly I have it on good authority that it is OK for me to be happy, and so that is what I will endeavour to be, and I hope that if something has robbed you of your happiness you can believe that it is OK for you to be happy again too.

xxx