In the bad moments...just having you there, no matter how ill...was better than you not being there at all.
Substitute mum for aunty/nan/another relative to whom you were close, and it's right for me too
In the good moments, the happy times they are missing too. And knowing it "was all for the best" is so hard to reconcile with the loss sometimes.
The "where are you now?" question...well, I don't have an answer to that. Some people believe their loved ones are in a better place now, on a cloud, in the stars, looking down on us, watching us, and know what we get up to. Others say they can't feel them any more at all.
Me? Well, I can only speak for myself here. I still feel like I've been stabbed in the chest some days. I still cry. The great gaping hole is still a great gaping hole.
Yet the memories of the relatives I've lost are strong. While I don't know whether they're hovering over me, can see me, or are looking down at me from some cloud or the stars, I feel so much of them is still here. In things that happen to me, in things that I see, in things that I do. In the job, at home, in the studies. I don't know if they're "talking to me" now, but what they used to say to me, how they used to react in certain situation and how they always loved me and cared for me, listened and encouraged, joked and sympathised...all that is still here. And it keeps me going.
The words I still hear today may sound like platitudes... "keep going and do your best"..."it'll all work out in the end"..."don't worry so much, you'll be fine"..."I knew you could do it"...but the words came from special people, have a special meaning to me and were always genuine. I can still hear their voices when I close my eyes. When I open them again, I'm alone, and it hurts. I can't pick up the phone and ring them any more, and that hurts as well. But then again, I'm not really alone...
Before you start wondering if I've had anything other to drink than tea and fruit juice today...no, I haven't
So I'll stop philosophising now, but it was good to get it off my chest anyway.
Thinking of you Helen, and everybody else on this part of the journey.
Love, Tina xx