Finally get Emmy into bed at a relatively early time and all I can think about is mum.
It's that throat grabbing feeling which I suppose is just another part of my brain accepting that she's gone but it means I can't sleep and all I can do is cry.
Do we all love our mums this much? Presumably even the cruel ones the selfish and unkind ones must still spark in us this feeling of being utterly terrified when they die. Possibly not.
Maybe for some people there is relief or even a type of happiness when the irretrievable end of a dysfunctional relationship is reached. Possibly though that only brings a different grief one of resentment and recrimination?
I don't know. I was so lucky that I will never know how it must feel to lose a mother you loathe.
My mum was all that was kind and gentle.
I hope that she knew that even at the end. I hope that she could tell I was there she rallied each time I arrived and declined each time I left. That may be ego that presumes the connection but I see it as her being a good mum.
Fighting until the end to protect.
I'm blogging this because I don't what to do. I don't know how to express it in this silent house of sleeping people other than to type it until it goes away. Or at least dissolves a little.
One day at a time is right.