Grief is just too small of a word

Initially written on my facebook on Monday August 24th

My mother died at 8:55 am on Wednesday 12th August 2009. We knew it was nearing the end but all believed she had a couple of weeks left. I had altered the house and was hoping to take her home to spend the last days of her life with her family on the that morning she died. I cared for my mother throughout her two year battle with ovarian cancer, I saw her pain & fear and yet even I didn't realise quite how bad it was at the end. Just how weak and sick she felt, how extreme the pain had become. So the part of me that loved my mother above all things is glad that is no longer in pain.Grief is perhaps one of the most selfish of all emotions, we do not grieve because the person we loved is no longer in pain, we grieve because we need them so much and want them back. The loss that I feel is so immense that no words of wisdom could possibly have prepared me for the pain and deep emptiness that eats away inside of me. The word "grief" is simply too small and inadequate to convey the depth and breadth of emotions it encompasses, much perhaps in the same way that love cannot even begin to express what we feel for our children, lovers and parents.She died so quickly that there was literally only two minutes between the calls saying she had gone downhill and I needed to come in and the call telling us she had died. I had been taking her dog to the vets for his shots so the calls were taken by Thad who had to break the news to me upon my return, merely the look of pain and love on his face told me worst news I hope to ever receive in my life in the most gentlest of ways. The shock was so powerful all I could was stand in the street and scream, then the pain and guilt that I hadn't been with her at the very end as we had both planned engulfed me. More than anything I wanted my mother to die with me by her side so that her last conscious thought was that little girl was there and she was loved. Even I was not able to have her home with me at the end, the plan with the hospice was that I would move into a room with her when they felt she had reached her last few days. Her sudden death felt as tho someone had stolen from me a precious moment in time, and gift that I longed and needed to be with her, to know for sure that she died with my love flowing into her.My mothers life story was such a sad one, starting out as an illegitmate orphan war baby in the far north of England, marrying at only 18 to a man who soon became an alcoholic abandoning her to raise her four children entirely on her own with no money, no family and no support. Yet she was the most loving woman you could ever meet, she spent her life helping anyone in need - whether they were friend, stranger and in some cases even foe. She ecnompassed all the qualities a mother should possiess and even motherer all she met whether they wanted her to or not.Most of all tho she was my best friend and my rock. So many people have told me how strong I have been with Emily's illness, my cancer surgery and my mothers illness and that I still somehow managed to study for my degree full time and care for all of my five children - yet it was borrowed strength. It is so easy to keep going when you have someone standing behind you loves you without condition nor expectation, who never asked anything of you and yet always helped pick up the pieces without ever saying "I told you so". The last words I said to my mother whilst she was alive was that she was my best friend, that I loved her more than inadequacy of language could ever allow me to convey and that she had been the best of mothers, but now I wanted her to be selfish and do what was best for her. I promised her I would be ok and that as it turns out was the hardest promise I have ever made.I am sick of platitudes and being told her spirit is with me, she isn't really gone etc because even tho I know my friends speak from the heart and wish to ease my pain - I want the whole fucking package. I don't want her loving spirit reaching out through the universe to me, I WANT HER. I want to be annoyed at being woken at 8am by her phone call, I want to be reminded that her tablets need putting up or she has a doctors appointment. I want to take her shopping and lose her in the store as she disappears off down some random isle to find another bargin she doesn't need. Most of all tho I want to hold her, to feel her arms around me and inhale her scent. To know that all will be welll with the world because mommy's there and she can make it all alright. I miss her so fucking much that at points I feel as tho I cannot even breathe and even the next five minutes ahead of me seem too long a time to possibly endure the pain. I crave the times when my mind benevolantly graces me with some respite and I feel numb, nothing moves me nor effects me. Occasionally I smile as I watch my children, feel gratitude to Thad as he looks at me with such love and desperation to somehow be able to take the pain away. I understand that it time it will ease, that one day I will think of her and not feel like I want to scream for her to come back and cry that she is gone. That type of healing however is slow to come, it sneaks past you and doesn't make it's presence felt, until it has fully taken root. For now I just ride the rollercoaster that is my life. I try to mother my children and not lash out at my lover who carrys me when I am unable to walk, feeds me when I can no longer bear to eat and remains the only constant in my life.Above all I remember one of the last things my mother ever said."Ah well, live, laugh, love....... what else can you do?"