Can’t think of a title for this.

My mother died on the 12th of December 2019. It was the last full moon of the year and decade.

She was sick, there’s no doubt about that but we thought we had more time. She had some heart and lung problems but they were all under control with the meds she was taking.
On Monday the 9th of December she went into hospital with a really bad stomach ache. They did scans and found a ‘mass’ on her pancreas. They did more scans and on the Tuesday they said it was pancreatic cancer that has spread to her liver.

I collapsed when my brother gave me the news. The doctor said she has 24 months left to live. I wept like I’ve never wept before. On the Wednesday her blood pressure dropped and my brother told me to get on a plane. I don’t remember how I even got to Heathrow. I was running on adrenaline, my heart was pounding a hundred miles an hour and I felt like I was going to throw up. The messages my brother was sending about her condition stopped. This frightened me but I remained hopeful. In the early hours somewhere above Africa I had a vision of my mother, I saw her face in my mind’s eye. She was around 40 years old and vibrant and smiling at me.

When I got to the Johannesburg I knew if I just saw one person there to greet me she was still alive so when I saw my dad I was relieved. That must mean that my siblings are with her I thought. My father couldn’t look me in the eye and hardly said hello, he took my bag and walked in front of me, I followed in silence. Around the corner I saw my brother and sister and I let out a visceral cry. ‘No!’ “No” was all I could say. My sister collapsed to the floor holding onto my leg and my brother held me as I shook.

One of my worst fears came true on the 12 of December 2019. I loved my mother more than words can say. She was the strongest person I’ve ever known. She was a mother, a mentor and guide and I am lost at sea without her.

I have been sober throughout 2019. So its been around 2 and a half years in total…it would be three and half if I didn’t have those two slips.

2019 was a difficult year for me. I dealt with lots of personal insecurity, anxiety, depression, money issues, eco anxiety and on and on but nothing compares to the grief I have after having lost her.

I know I haven’t been blogging. The reason is just that I felt inept to cope with life and didn’t think I had anything of value to say about anything really. Yes I’m sober but life is fucking hard. It’s ‘drag your ass out of bed on your hands and knees’ hard.

I flew back to London on my own and had a transit stop over in Amsterdam. I found a smoking section which was conveniently located inside a bar. I went in had my cigarette then walked ever so slowly past the bar and looked at the amber liquid in the whiskey bottles with such longing for oblivion I could hardly breathe. When I realised what was happening I rushed out of there like the devil was chasing me.

My mother would have said this is a right of passage and would have advised me to try to find meaning in the loss. She would say ”Transform the loss to gratitude and find that it can cause a shift in your consciousness where you appreciate each moment you are alive. “

I know this.

It’s too soon for me to ‘positive talk’ myself into gratitude. I feel like I have accepted her death I’m just so fucking sad she’s gone and I miss her. I just miss her.

30 thoughts on “Can’t think of a title for this.

  1. Sorry to hear this but she sounds like a wise woman and as you say a mentor, she may be gone physically but she’ll always be there in your heart. Drinking won’t ease anything and will only make you feel worse so keep her memory close to heart and drink as far away as possible. Send you hugs and think8ng of you. A.

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  2. I’m sorry for your loss. It’s grim and there are no words, not yet.

    This is what you posted to me in October 2017 when my mum died suddenly. I still remember it now:

    “I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot begin to comprehend how you must be feeling. Please please please DO NOT TAKE A DRINK. there is nothing on this earth that is so bad that can’t be made worse with pouring alcohol onto it. It’s not going to help, its just going to press pause and when you sober up you will be faced with two devastations. I am there for you in spririt. xxxxxxxxxxxx”

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  3. Hi Hurrah – I am so sorry for your loss. You articulate it so beautifully.

    This was especially touching for me to read today. My father-in-law doesn’t have long. It’s been a four month grieving process, and he’s not even gone yet. We got the news just weeks before my daughter was born. I’ve been trying to do what I can for my wife. But there’s just nothing. Nothing. For some of it. Nothing to be done.

    Thanks for posting and my thoughts are with you this morning.

    Liked by 4 people

    • Thank you Mark. I’m sorry to hear about your wife’s father. The best thing you can do is just be there with her and allow her to grieve in whatever way she needs to. (I’m sure you are doing that already:) Thanks for always being here even if I’m not.

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  4. Oh my god…wow. I’m sorry. Write when you feel like it and don’t worry about it the rest of the time. Life is absolutely fucking hard. Sending good thoughts and vibes your way.

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  5. I’m so sorry for your loss! My own mother died 8 years ago but I feel her presence daily.. in flashes of memories, in little things that she taught me. Your mother was so huge in shaping who you are. You will always carry her in your heart.
    May her memory be a blessing..
    ❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Thank you for writing, Hurrah. I ache for you. I send you warmth and light in your grief. The suddenness of her decline is wild. My own mom was sick for five years before she passed, and even so I felt like I couldn’t conceive of my own existence in the universe if she was gone, and I hadn’t read Journey of Souls yet and so I had no framework for understanding our comings and goings. I am thrilled that you got yourself away from that airport bar 🙂 Feel free to keep writing here. Sober bloggers often dribble off after the first year or two, but clearly living in an alcohol-free body that was formerly commonly reaching for oblivion is a nonlinear path that keeps…. on….. going. You’ll find your own meaning on your own time. Take good care. Ask the universe what some new comforts/supports might be in this new time. Sending love. Adrian

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  7. Sometimes there’s not much one can say. Your grief is raw, it’s just horrible to lose someone we love so much. I think you’re amazing especially walking past that bar and the lure of oblivion. Keep writing. Jim x

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  8. I am so sorry to hear. I am so happy you bolted from that place. Sobriety doesn’t have conditions. Self-love rules. Your life matters and how you live it. Your mother sounded like a beautiful person and spirit.
    Thank you for sharing this and holding you all in the light.

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  9. Oh Hurrah, I am so sorry and feel for you as the same happened to me for my dad when I lived in Hong Kong. That long flight of uncertainty and the literal crash on landing. Feel all the feels and know they will pass but allow them to register. I hope someone is there to be a shoulder to cry on when needed. Sending you much love.

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    • Thank you Ginger, had a narrow escape the other day but I’m feeling a bit more grounded now. I’m sorry about your dad. I know it never goes away you just learn to live with it. Lots of love to you too 💖

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  10. Hi Hurrah. How you doing? I just happened to wander by. I hope that your heart is slowly learning how to breathe again (Mixed Metaphors R Us). I hope you are surrounded by love and gentleness. Adrian

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