Mum. It feels so nice to say that word. And to have somebody respond to it. To acknowledge that they are your mum. It feels good.
Not everybody has that privilege. The luxury. That’s because they lost their mum at one point. Whether it was just before their 29th birthday. Or right after they turned nine days old.
I don’t know how it feels. To lose your mum. I cannot say I understand. I don’t know how to explain the pain people feel. I haven’t been through it yet. But I can try to imagine.
It must look like a hole, that devastation. Located right in the middle of your heart. The spiritual one, not the physical. A gaping hole that keeps widening with time.
It doesn’t seem to stop. Growing bigger and deeper with each passing day. Replacing what you once had. Because she was your heart.
Or maybe it’s a broken soul. Cracks have formed all over, some pieces falling off. And you don’t know how to piece them back together. How to make them stick again.
That is how I imagine it to be. And you wonder how you could possibly fill the space. Empty space that she left. Because she was your soulmate.
I don’t want to know how it feels. But I know the grief will be worse on her, if I leave. So I won’t. I will live for mum. For she gave life to me.