3rd October 2019
Megan Devine Writing Your Grief prompt inviting us to borrow love; to see ourselves through the eyes of the one we have lost, and imagine how they would tend to us in our pain.
How would you love me in this, Julia?
If I imagine you speaking, if I imagine you loving me through this, you would tell me that I was a good enough mum. Always. And sometimes even a pretty good mum.
You would tell me that you knew I loved you deeply, through easier times and hard.
You would say that you trusted, deep down, that you could tell me anything, especially the really dark stuff.
That you learned, during your last year, that scared as it made me, terrified as it made us both, I was able to hold your terror, your angst, your pain, your desperation.
You’d say that you saw I didn’t shy away from any of it. I didn’t recoil or shut it down, even though I didn’t understand it. Even though I fundamentally felt that life was still worth living, without dad. Because I still had you, Ben and Megan.
You’d say that your pain was just too big. That that connection you had with dad was bigger, more powerful, than all other connections in the world.
You would say that you missed your friends, your brother and sister, your cousins, your pets, and yes, your mumma too. And that the peace you had now made that missing worthwhile.
I don’t think you would say you were sorry. And that’s okay. I feel better if I don’t imagine you are sorry. I feel even more bereft, angry, betrayed, powerless, destroyed, if I think for one instant that you regret what you did.
I just cannot let my heart go down that line. It’s too fragile.
And finally you’d say, “Mum – carry on. Keep living and loving and being loved. It’s what you do best”.
