Last Friday, my Mother died suddenly. The stage 4 cancer she was suffering (and that doctors had confidently claimed could be cured) raged out of control and within 48 hours she was gone.
This would have been a bitter blow at any point in my life, but coming three months after my Father’s death, it has hit my sister and me especially hard. The love and support of a parent is sacred because it is unconditional and absolute. Having been stripped of both parents in so short a space of time, I now feel lost, scared and alone; the pain is deep and raw, like a pulled fingernail, and the future seems dour and filled with clouds.
As is common with most creative people, I am utterly useless at the simple things in life – banking, remembering appointments, keeping track of documents, feeding myself properly – and Mum was my bulwark against all of that, an exceptionally kind and caring person who forgave me all the calamities and disappointments I caused her. Without her help, I am now exposed to the grinding gears of life and fear a fall into its grimy innards, where paperwork and penury will mash me shapeless.
Grief has not really registered as I am still grieving for my Father. My emotional reserves are empty, and I feel deeply guilty that I cannot raise myself to a new level that truly acknowledges the loss of my Mother. I suppose this will change with time, for the love between a mother and a child is unique: the biological element of having grown within the womb-warmth of another person creates a link that transcends any another in life.
I am a lucky to have a fantastic family, an exceptional group of friends, and a very patient, supportive fiancée. I hope that will suffice when the pendulum of pain makes its inevitable return sweep and my Mother’s death really hits home . . .