Cogs

I cant believe its been 2 weeks today since the funeral. Feels a lot longer than that. Only 3 weeks since she died? Can't be. Why does it feel like ages ago?

I suppose when I think about the question I actually know the answer. I have been keeping busy, every minute of every day filled, I suppose everything is a welcome distraction, from thinking about it, even when it appears I'm doing nothing my head is still going, planning things.

There have been a couple of things that have happened this week where I have thought, 'I must tell Mum that when I see her'. Then remember, and a quick sinking feeling that I can't.

The other day when driving I saw a woman that looked like Mum from a distance and I still looked to see if it was her, funny for months we got used to seeing her with no hair and yet the woman I saw had a full head like how mums used to be.

When I have been going to sleep at night I think about things, think about what people have said, and people say the funniest of things don't they? I know they mean well and the words are kind, but one card I had stated that Mum was in a better place. A better place? Better than being here with her family? Its not like she's gone to the Seychelles.

I think this is where people start questioning their beliefs, round about now. Maybe Im not shedding tears and breaking down all over the place because I questioned my beliefs a while ago.
I think we are like a lightbulb, the bulb blows and the fillament gets broken and the bulb doesn't work anymore, but there is still electric supplied to it.

My other theory about me not being a quivering mess is this one. When me and Mum had deep discussions she said that each family member brought different qualities almost like making up one whole being. Like cogs. We do function individually but together are one working piece.

The things that I have done and put into place I dont think the others would have done with the same finesse, and before anyone thinks that sound a bit conceited, by the same token, I couldnt live in that house now like my brother does, or I couldnt have looked after her like my sister did.
We all have things to be proud of and should be grateful for.

On Monday someone asked me how the funeral went, then seemed suprised when I said it was really good. Maybe a bad choice of words on my part. I then had to explain that it was everything that Mum wanted and anticipated it to be.
It did make our life a lot easier talking about it beforehand and knowing what music and readings etc. You know there wasn't one word spoken about Mum that day that didn't fit, I'm certain if mum was around to witness it she would have said (and I can hear her say it in my head now) 'That was f***ing fantastic'. I'd like to think that somehow, from somewhere (maybe the Seychelles) she did witness it.
Yes Mum swore, she said to me once that when she died she didnt want us to paint a false picture of her, putting her on a pedastal and making her out to be a saint.

The thing I have been dreading the most hasn't happened yet. My son, touch wood, hasn't asked where Granny is.
Though in the car he was talking to himself and saying' Granny, where are you?' was a bit weird.

Last night I dreamt about mum and she looked exactly how we all remember her, before she was ill. I can;t remember the ins and outs of the dream but I know that she was ok.