Writing through bereavement

I haven't blogged for a good few months but today I went to a creative workshop and was encouraged by former Derbyshire poet laureate River Wolton to write a poem about MND.

The process of writing it has really helped me take what you might call a sideways look at my bereavement.

Norfolk Sky

Dusk. The sun descends on the horizon.

Loud male voices disturb the peace from afar. A small white fishing boat has entered the bay.

The men are returning home for the day.

They move close enough to the harbour that she can see their yellow life jackets.

They're anchored. Moored.

Stepping off the boat he sees in her face there is something wrong. He holds her as she weeps into his chest.

It's not going to be ok.

Dusk. The sun descends on the horizon.



Fran Hall

Getting Real

I was 26 when my mum died. It felt way too young to lose a mum, but I’ve come to realise that many people don’t even get 26 years with their mum, and if they do, they’re often not as blissful and secure as mine were. I'm so grateful for the person she was and the relationship we had.

I’d be lying if I said I never argued with my mum but I was extremely lucky that those occasions were very rare, and I don’t remember her raising her voice to me more than once or twice. (Maybe that’s because I was just such a good child!?)

Some people have their mum in their life until they’re old. Some lose their mum at a very young age. Some never meet their birth mum or find them later on in life. Some people lose their mum unexpectedly and some have a long time to prepare.

Emotions

There are many emotions to deal with when you’ve lost a mother, have never known her, or just wish your relationship had been very different. These feelings are different for everyone. There can be a mixture of sadness, denial, regret, pain, misery, anger, joy and happiness at memories, hope, and many more.

It has been easy for me to have a rose-tinted view of my mum since her death; pretending that she was always perfect, and although I thought she was most of the time, I’ve realised that as well as this I need to remember the times when I was frustrated with her, the times when we fell out, when we weren’t speaking, and when she annoyed me. Only then can I have a full picture of what she was like.

Writing

I started this blog as a way of dealing with all the different emotions I was feeling and I can honestly say that writing it has been one of, if not the most, cathartic activities to help me deal with my loss.

If you’ve experienced the loss of a parent I would encourage you to write. You can write about anything, you don’t have to write about your loss – writing about other things can trigger memories (bad and good) about your loved one. Sometimes it doesn’t make you remember anything. Give it a go if you haven’t already, what have you got to lose?

Here are some other good articles and blogs on the same topic:

Life in The Middle Ages

Losing a Parent to Cancer

Dealing With a Bad Mum

My website

Occasions

As what would have been my mum’s 65^th birthday approaches (16^th March) I have been thinking again about the grieving process and how events can help so much in healing.

Here we all are on mum's 62^nd birthday, the last she had on earth. It was a lovely day and one I didn't realise we wouldn't have again.

Last year my sister and I bought cards for mum’s 64th birthday to celebrate the occasion. As Lucy still believes mum is behind the red curtain inside our local crematorium, we wrote our cards and took them to the crematorium door. We read them out loud, resealed them and posted them through the letter box. Marking occasions such as this gives me permission to remember with reason. I can hear you saying, 'you have reason enough Fran', and you're right, but it links back to my previous post on intentionality - sometimes we need a sense of purpose, and a plan for grieving, remembering and healing.

I know I need more than this once a year 'ceremony' (twice if you count the day she died) to remember her. My mum was an amazing woman and deserves to be remembered every day. 

Our family doesn't have a grave, commemorative plaque, or planted tree to visit when we feel low or want a place of focus. While I wouldn't want any of those things to become the focus, I am coming to realise that these things all provide a place of ceremony, and a place with absolute permission to grieve.

Denial

Well, it's only 2 days until Christmas and I can't help wondering what mum would be doing right now if she was here. Somehow I have to get my head around the fact that she isn't here but I'm in a constant dream state of surreality (!) and have been for over 2 years. Thinking about her at Christmas time, even when I really really try doesn't bring that much to mind. There's some kind of blockage there but how do I move it?

When mum died I thought I could just carry on with my life as usual, pick up from where I left off before she was ill, not out of disrespect for her but simply because it was easier not to think about the situation and therefore not confront any pain. Of course denial is a natural part of all grieving, but more than 2 years of this has not been a great idea for me. However, something in me obviously knew I couldn't deal with the pain right away and has allowed me to wait until I am ready.

I love this photo because it says everything about how I felt about mum. And although, ok, yes I probably am looking adoringly at my new born sister, I know I'm looking at mum too thinking how great she is.

Perhaps if I had lost something or someone much much less important to me I could have dealt with the bereavement earlier but this prolonged denial just goes to show, to me anyway, that I lost the most important person in the world.

The way I think about my future, every present moment and even my past has to change. The past in particular is a source of great sadness to me at the moment as it contains regrets, memories that can never be repeated as well as unrealistic representations of a person that I must dispel.

I think one of the hardest things for me has been to understand what I'm supposed to do while I'm grieving. I mean how does someone actually grieve? No one teaches you how to do it yet it seems to be a thing that people 'do'. Well, it seems that both my mind and body are telling me it's time to start doing this illusive thing we call grieving, so here goes...

Intros

Hi, I'm Fran, I'm 29.

As you may have guessed from the title of this blog, this is not going to be the jolliest read ever, but if you are going through a bereavement or know someone who is, my hope is that you might take something away that will help.

I've started the blog primarily to help myself through grieving for my mum who passed on 2 years ago, but also because I believe that my hurt can be turned around to help other people who are hurting.

Here's a picture of my mum in 2008 only a few weeks before she found out she had Motor Neurone Disease and 2 years before she died. She really was a beautiful lady.

I don't want to depress everyone just before Christmas, so I'll try and end each blog post on a positive note!

That's all for today but I'll be posting again tomorrow.

4 days to Christmas! x