I’m a little bit late with this one because I’ve been sitting on it for about a month. For Mum’s one-year anniversary I spent an incredible week amongst friends and family. Recharging my batteries and basking in their love and affection. What a year it’s been. Just like almost four years ago I didn’t see my life taking the turn it did; 12 months ago I couldn’t see through the shattering pain and loss I felt over Mum’s death. I never would have imagined that I could say I found contentment just one short year later. But I have. The earthquakes that seemed to rock my world every five minutes have subsided. Now they’re mostly little tremors and I’ve shored up my foundations so that I can withstand the occasional big shake.

Life has been difficult and I was angry, so very angry, and hurt. Letting it all go to heal has been hard but I feel like I’m finally in a better place. The tide has receded and I’m no longer swamped by every little wave that comes along. I’m thankful for the things I have. I still have a lot. I have a good job with an employer who could see me struggling and gave me time and support to get it together. I have beautiful friends who support and love me even when I can’t do that for myself. I have family who stand with me like rocks, weathering the storms with me even amidst their own. Last, but by no means least, I have a partner who loves and grounds me even when I’m completely irrational and nuts. I write, I sing, I garden, and I spend time with our wonderful pets. I focus on things that enrich me. I now see what is important and everywhere I look I feel rich.

These things all make the inevitable dark days and the pain so much more bearable. Although I still carry the baggage of pain, sorrow and loss with me, I’ve grown. I’ve learned how to carry the weight properly so that it no longer crushes me, but strengthens me without hardening my heart. 12 months on, I don’t want to dwell on what I’ve lost. I remember with love what I had and take a moment to be thankful for a mother who loved me unconditionally, guided and supported me, and who believed unflinchingly (and maybe a little misguidedly) that I could do anything I set my mind to.

Mum, I still miss you with a fire that burns like the sun and I love you to the stars and back. Thank you for being mine. X