My mum died

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Hi,

my mum passed away at home last Friday.

She'd had a final, terminal diagnosis and my dad and I cared for her at home the 7 weeks before she died. At first she deteriorated weekly, then daily, then hourly.

I knew that she was going to die, and she has. I found her in her bed, eyes open and staring into space, jaw lax. I spent some time with her unmoving body. I checked her cold, swollen hands for jewellery when the undertakers arrived, and I kissed her cheek before they took her away and was startled by just how thin she'd become. 

Despite all of this, her death does not seem real to me. I've had no awful moment of realisation and I don't know why. My mind keeps returning to the image of her dead in her bed but I still don't seem to have made a connection between the death and my mum. I don't know why.

Please, is this normal? Will I ever feel like it's real? It feels almost like I'm waiting for her to come downstairs or in from work. I don't feel like I'm grieving properly because for whatever reason I haven't accepted that she really is gone forever, and in horrible circumstances

  • Hi Butmuuum_cats

    Welcome to the community.  I'm sorry to hear about the recent loss of your mum.

    Firstly, you and your dad, can take great comfort from looking after your mum at home and this would have made her passing more peaceful.  She would have taken great comfort also from knowing her family were there doing everything they could for her.

    Secondly, what you are feeling is perfectly normal.  Your mum will always be with you and she will always try to guide, support and comfort you as best she can.  She is helping you now because she knows how upset you will be and therefore she is ensuring that you come to terms with things gradually to ease the pain.  Talk to your mum whenever and where ever you want - even little things such as coming in the house and making a brief comment about the weather.  She will be listening and will try to send you a sign that she is there.  Ask her to support you through this and help you to come to terms with it.  These signs may not happen straight away and could be anything such as unexpected white feathers, radios / tv retuning or something personal to you and your mum so you know it is not just coincidence.  Feeling numb is a part of the grieving process and is only a concern if it lasts too long.  We all grieve differently and at our own speed so there are no rights or wrongs.  You could visit one of your mums favourite places such as the local park and talk to her there and open yourself to any sign she may send.

    In time you could start a memory book about your mum which can contain stories from your childhood, stories your mum told you about her growing up, stories from other relatives, stories from friends of your mums and lots of photos.  You can do this alone or involve family members to join in.  No one except yourself, and possibly family, need see what you have compiled.  Writing down everything you feel and remeber, both happy and sad, is a great way of expressing your emotions.

    If you need to talk to someone, please contact the support line free on 0808 808 0000 which is open daily 8 am – 8 pm daily for a free confidential chat.  You can use this link your area to find support near where you live.  This could be 1-2-1 or group and is also free and confidential. 

    Also, post as much as you want whenever you want here and someone will always respond to you.

    There is some useful information on coping with grief and information on the symptoms of grief.

    This link allows you to download the Macmillan book Coping with Bereavement which is full of useful information and has support contact details at the back.  This booklet about bereavement is free and can be downloaded as PDF or as an ebook.

    This link takes you to a leaflet called In Memory which is very useful.

    Lastly, here are some words which I hope will bring you some comfort -

    Death is nothing at all.

    I have only slipped away into the next room.

    I am I and you are you.

    Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

    Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way you always used.

    Put no difference into your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

    Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

    Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

    Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the shadow of a ghost in it.

    Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.

    Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

    I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around

    the corner .......

    All is well.

    Hope this helps and sending you a big hug.

    David

  • I don't know about normal, but it's exactly the same as my experience. Eight weeks ago today I held the hand of my Kathy, the woman I've loved from teenager to pensioner, as her heart finally stopped.

    I still wake up in the night and think I hear her, but it's only the wind. The front door rattles and I expect the sound of her key in the lock. I pick up the TV remote, and start to ask an empty chair which channel she wants to see.

    I suppose it's memory and habit. Forty eight years since we met, thirty two of them married. It is slowly fading but I am painfully lonely, more so because my nearest relatives are in Canada and the USA. The habits are slowly fading, and new ones are growing. I'm learning again how to live alone. It's slowly becoming real but what will never change is the warm, soft memory of the love we shared for decades, the good times, the things we shared and the places we visited,

    Hang in there, live and be happy for her.