Today is Mum’s birthday, she would have been 86 years old, had she survived for just a few more weeks. They say the “firsts”- the first birthday, Christmas, Mother’s day and so on are the worst. I was fully expecting to be in pieces today.

And I’m almost ashamed to admit I feel empty, numb, my body feels hollow still. My head understands grief comes in many forms, that it isn’t a linear process, that numbness is grief as much as weeping. Yet I still feel guilty, even fraudulent. I know my mother is dead and yet most of the time I just can’t feel it.

Head and heart, soul and body each have different speeds of comprehension. I feel uneasy, unsettled, I wake each day with a sense of dread. I see the empty room, I miss her presence. I know that processing is happening. I’ve experienced similar process with other losses, maybe this is my way of grieving? But oh, my heart yearns for the release of floodgates of tears, for the relief they bring, but they are just not coming for mum right now.

I thought that the funeral would herald their arrival, but after the day was done, the tears dried again. I have flashes of emotion, then back to this blankness.

I’ve just attended an incredibly powerful, cathartic lament retreat, (I’ll write more about this when it has settled in). I was able to express and embody grief freely. My tears fell like rain, for all of my stuff that chose to be present, for other’s losses and pain. What came up for me was absolutely right, it needed outing too. So grief can flow in and through me, just not this grief!

I’m not consciously suppressing or denying mum’s death, I desperately want to feel the feels. The feels just don’t seem to want to be felt yet.

And I guess my reasons for sharing this are to try to highlight or acknowledge how distressing and disorientating this sense of numbness is for anyone experiencing this – I’m sure I’m not alone.

To be “the bereaved” without feeling heartwrenching sorrow is beyond strange.