Trigger warning: death.
My mum died last week. Her name was Suzanne (never Susan).
I realised as I studied her face after it happened that I have never seen a dead body before. Her top lip was taut over her teeth. She looked weirdly waxen. Her forehead was cool on my lips as I kissed her goodbye.
Right now I am learning a lot about the stuff that needs to be sorted when someone dies. There is a lot of it.
And I am learning a lot too about the enormity of losing a parent. I can’t quite make sense of the fact that it is both something that almost everyone goes through at my stage of life if not before (i.e. quite normal really), but is also uniquely, overwhelmingly painful (does not feel at all normal) all at the same time. I think they call this cognitive dissonance. Whatever it is, it’s raging right now. I’m three days in.
The doorbell keeps ringing and flowers keep appearing. The house is full of flowers. But is notably minus one mum. We are waiting for the van to collect ‘the equipment’: the commode and other accoutrements of frailty.
I’m holding on to the fact that I was lucky to have a mum. Even more lucky to have a mum who loved me and who was willing and able to be there for me – for us – for almost 50 years. Not everyone is so blessed. Many of my clients are not. I keep telling myself that the loss we are feeling is the corollary of the privilege of having her in our lives.
When I’m ready I will tell you about my mum. For now, I just wanted to say that I have run out of vases.
And to the man who just commented on my post from a couple of weeks ago which said that I was taking a step back to prioritise family, just so he could mansplain that it was this sort of attitude that explained why men get all the best work – Bri, you should take a long hard look at yourself and ask if your mother would have been proud.
I wasn’t sure if it was wise to post anything when things are still so – I think the traditional word here is ‘raw’, but I’m going to go with the non-trad ‘fucking awful’ – but Bri’s stupid comment has made me think it’s important that I do. I’m not ashamed for doing what I need to do to look after myself and my family. Nobody should be.
The Lord Chancellor might still think its big and clever to promote the bravado of the never-sleeping bar, but I don’t. I’m also not a member of the stupid Garrick club either, Bri.
Some free advice from me: hug your mums. And your dads. And your family generally. Hugs all round.
I’ll be back on here when I’m ready.