My mother passed away at 2:42 yesterday morning…nine years ago.
Nine years ago. Imagine that. That’s kind of long ago if you think about it. 2004. That’s like a lifetime ago, isn’t it? But it doesn’t feel like it. I see it all, still. I feel it all, still. If I shut my eyes really tightly, she’s even still alive, answering when I call her “mum”. If I shut my eyes really tightly, I have a mum.
Nine years. That’s how long I’ve lived without her. In the beginning, however, I wasn’t living. I was merely existing; adrift. I’m living a little now these days I think, but there are days when I’m still not sure. Those are the days that I feel as rudderless as motherlessness should feel and I just don’t know what to do.