What a puzzling strange trip it has been. Nearly two months have passed and those that say it gets easier over time, surely have no idea what they are talking about. It does not get easier. Everything has changed. Everything is different.

Mum is no longer there. No longer anywhere I can pick up the phone and contact. She is gone and the hole in my life feels as if it is getting bigger and deeper.

Each and every night I see her in my dreams. Without fail. There she is. In dreamscapes. For fleeting moments, we’re together again. Even in dream tho, I know she is dead. And I wake. And I reach out into pure darkness into nothing.

And I cry. Every day.

The entire dynamic of my family is gone. The vital cog that kept it all together, the key structure in the foundation of what it is to be in my family, is gone. In death, life has changed. And it is a change which I despise with my entire being. I hate it.

Nothing feels right about this. Nothing feels as if it will subside.

And nothing is what I can do about it.

Broken.