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I still can’t stop thinking about mum… and in one sense why should I?  It sounds wrong to say that you don’t want to think about her, but every time I stop for a second, switch off from what I am doing – suddenly there she is.   Always on my mind.

I think I’m enduring a second wave of shock – some ten months later.   I’m feeling the pain all over again, of never ever being able to see her, or speak to her, again.  Not on this side of life anyway.

God I miss her.

There will be another song for me
For I will sing it.
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it.

I will take my life in to my hands and I will use it
I will win worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers through the sky.

Jimmy Webb

Of course, when you’re backed into a corner (even if it is by your own state of mind) what else can you do but come out fighting?

It’s one of those nights when I want to sit up all night and play music into the small hours – throwing the windows wide and screaming in to the night. Some thunder and lightening to drown out my torment would be quite helpful too – if anyone up there is listening?

I couldn’t have said it better. Thank you Groove Armada.

It’s almost ten months now since mum died. It’s only now that I’m starting to miss her – which sounds absolutely awful, but what it really means is that it’s finally starting to sink in that she is actually gone.

Sometimes I forget. No. It would be more accurate to say that sometimes I remember. Suddenly in instantly in a moment of almost panic “mum’s dead!”

I don’t know what has brought about this shift of emotion or state of mind over the last two weeks, but in almost every waking and most sleeping thoughts she has been there. I suppose this is the next stage of grief or mourning… I’ve done anger and although I thought I was a way further down the road than I am with this, it seems like I’m finally getting past denial.

I was laying on the rug in the lounge last night, tv on, lamp lit by my side, cat stalking around the room and for the first time in ages I felt genuinely happy. It came upon me quite unexpectedly, but the real shock was that until that point I wasn’t even aware that I wasn’t happy. But then, for a few minutes in a wave that grew and grew, expanding outwards in a kind of burning bursting pride (and I know pride is a sin) I felt that all was right with me and the madness was banished. For a while at least.

It happened again today. Happiness. Little moments of happiness. One can only guess what the ultimate cause of these spontaneous outbreaks of happiness is, but undoubtedly a sense of having some control over my life is playing a part.