The Dark Days
These are the hardest. The days when you don't want to get out from under the duvet. When everything feels black and you're moving through treacle.
They're horrible, and they're not nice to remember, but they do exist.
The best way I found to deal with them was to stay under the duvet, to cry and to writhe about and to live it, fully.
I remember Jane (our green funeral organiser) telling me about how grief happens in our heads, but also cellularly - the whole body needs to grieve and process and shake what's happened through.
So I let it, as much as possible - I let the body take over when the mind was tired and do what it had to do - crying, sleeping, writhing around, flailing about. Oh the sadness. Not easy.
I also remember the midwife telling me to see my leaking breasts as tears.
They're horrible, and they're not nice to remember, but they do exist.
The best way I found to deal with them was to stay under the duvet, to cry and to writhe about and to live it, fully.
I remember Jane (our green funeral organiser) telling me about how grief happens in our heads, but also cellularly - the whole body needs to grieve and process and shake what's happened through.
So I let it, as much as possible - I let the body take over when the mind was tired and do what it had to do - crying, sleeping, writhing around, flailing about. Oh the sadness. Not easy.
I also remember the midwife telling me to see my leaking breasts as tears.