First blog post, gosh that feels weird to type. I never thought I would be sat here writing about grief at the age of 24 let me tell you that. I cant seem to imagine my life without the feeling of grief in my centre, its like its always been there. I lost my beautiful mother last March, unexpectedly and at such a young age. My mam was 59 when she passed- far too young. She passed from a severe and aggressive case of bronchopneumonia, mixed with a bit of sepsis and to top it all off, multi-organ failure- she never was one to do things by halves. Its strange, I woke up one morning in March and had a mother, the next morning I was holding her as she took her final breath. At that time, in that moment it felt as though I had also taken my last breath, that all the air in my lungs had evaporated as the line on the machine went flat by her bedside. I was from that moment. broken. Her little legs- barely reaching the bottom of the hospital bed, were cold and stiff. The hands that once held me filled with warmth and safety, lifeless and blue. Everything I had ever known felt as though it had been ripped away from me, surrounded by my sisters, I realised that the only person, the only reason why I continued on, why I pushed so hard, was gone. My mother was gone. I didn't quite know what had happened, I still don't. I find myself drip feeding memories from that day into my mind, as though to not overwhelm myself with emotion. I want to remember, I want to feel my emotions but I find it so hard, the person I loved most in this world, who made me who i am today, who fed me, clothed me and gave me advice and reassurance that i needed in my most vulnerable times had been taken from me. I remember staying with her the longest as my family faded towards the door of the ICU, I couldn't leave her, I remember i lay next to her looking up at her face, tracing the features with my hands in fear I would forget them instantly once I left. I smelt her hair, it smelt of hair dye and Elvive shampoo- she'd only had it done a few days before, I was scared. Scared I would forget her, scared that if she didn't wake up in that very moment, the sound of her voice would disappear from memory. I was holding her hand and looking up at her thinking of nothing else but her, her laugh, her smile and her tiny little body lying there. Every part of me wanted her to wake up and be labelled as some miracle, I think everyone hopes that. She didn't. She lay still, cold and lifeless, I was heartbroken. I knew that as soon as i left her that would be it, she would be taken and no longer in my control, no longer my mum- that's what I thought at the time anyway. That me leaving with those locks of hair chopped from her barely warm body would be the only part of her I would have left- i didn't want to leave. I began to sit up after an hour and decided that against every fibre of my being, it was time to leave, after all i had been there since 10am the previous morning and it was now 7am My partner behind me supporting me in every way she could, I was able to build the courage to open the curtain and say to the nurse "I'm done" - the biggest lie I have ever told in my life. As I walked on towards the doors of the ICU, passing much older people and their family's, I couldn't help but to feel jealous. It wasn't my mams time, she was too young, I was too young. I didn't know how I would be able to live without her, what my life would look like and I couldn't see a future- I didn't want a future. I'm here to tell you that its okay to feel like that. I felt like that for a long time, sometimes it still creeps up on me, however I am strong and I know that its just a feeling controlled by the guilt and the grief. Life is beautiful and it does continue after death, that person lives on through you and it is an amazing feeling to make it through to the other side. I still have my bad days and I still wonder what the hell I'm doing with my life as its definitely not the life I planned at 24, but its the life I have. its the only one I have and its important to remember that life is a mixture of good and bad, difficult and easy. Its not easy and I'm still on year 1, the very early stages of grief, but its with the support of my colleagues, friends and my therapist that I have been able to gain a new outlook on life after death. Majorly that there is one.
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