LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Tag: grief loss and healing

Goodbye 2017, Hello 2018

Alternative title : I’m not about to pretend that 2017 was anything more than an utter shit storm of epic proportions … That said, while you can’t polish a turd, you can roll it in glitter! 

2017 began as a nightmare, a grief infused devastatingly painful experience that I’m still amazed I managed to get through … Losing my dad imprints on my every waking moment, but that very first day of 2017 will always be the one that will hurt the most. Waking from a massive stress driven Migraine with the dawning realisation that my world had changed forever and that nothing would ever fix that left me, in turn, broken beyond repair. It was an excruciating level of pain, every inch of me felt the emotional and physical repercussions of that grief. I wanted to stop feeling … And for a little while the feeling did stop and a quiet numbness took over.

A resigned numbness that this new reality was one I would have to accept and no amount of throwing myself on the floor in a shrieking stroppy mess would change that.

A numbness that made things bearable … Just.

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The Girl with the Pink Docs

Alternative title: “Song to Say Goodbye” is playing, it was the song that had gently filtered through the car speaker system the night we sped to hospital knowing my dad would be breathing his final breaths within hours.”Song to Say Goodbye” is playing, tears are hot on my face, mascara traces left behind, betraying them to the world. “Song to Say Goodbye” is playing … And my heart is in pieces. 

I would follow them around the world if I could …

Because they make me feel alive.

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A Rather Conventional Funeral

Alternative title : It seemed like a bad dream … The pews were the same, the funeral directors ushering people to their seats were the same, the air was as musty as all those months ago, a coffin on a stand, roses atop … But it wasn’t a dream … We were back at the crematorium. Saying goodbye to another.  

Where my dad had the scent of petrol and the roar of scooters, punk music blaring over the sound system as his coffin was walked into the crematorium, glistening fresh snow and a celebrant with tales of mischief, my uncle had rainfall (in typical Lancashire style), a sombre silence as the pall bearers lifted him over the threshold, and prayers sung in broken voices.

It seemed so strange … Yet so familiar. 

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