By Kevin, whose mum died in February 2020
I will never be the same again. Sure, I look the same and people might think I act the same, but everything is just so different. For the sake of other people, I do a really good impression of what I used to be like but that is all it is; an impersonation. The brightest colours look a little darker, the funny things are less amusing, and there’s a bittersweet aftertaste that I can’t escape when something good happens.
People will surprise you. Mum’s death is a taboo subject for some, an emotional minefield that they are incapable of navigating, and as such, they just won’t talk about it. People who I thought would be there no matter what are nowhere to be seen, while on the other hand others have unexpectedly stepped up and I wouldn’t have made it this far without them.
It really did happen. There are strange moments where I almost forget that she is no longer with us, perhaps she’s just at work or back home with the rest of the family. However, it soon hits me that she really did pass away and the pain kicks in again. That pain isn’t lessening at all, I’m just growing increasingly numb to it. I have lost count of the number of times that I thought I saw her in a shop, or that she’s been alive in my dreams, and in those brief moments, I feel a hope that I soon remember will never be fulfilled.
Coping with grief comes in different shapes and forms. Throughout this year of grieving, especially amidst a global pandemic, I have found comforting ways of coping that work for me. I have a canvas of my mum on the living room wall that I talk to throughout the day, I look up at the sky and say goodnight to her when I get in bed each night, and I always contemplate what Mum would advise me when I need a little guidance. People might think that’s strange, but I’ll cope in a way that works for me, not what works for others.
Mum knows best. A few days before Mum’s passing, she told me “You’re always too hard on yourself, Kev. You’ve got to give yourself a break.” I’d love to say I’d taken that advice on board but sadly I’ve done the opposite. However, I know she’s right and I’m determined to put it right. Mum’s advice never did me wrong before and there’s no reason why it won’t moving forward. My heart breaks when I think that she won’t be there when I get married this year, or won’t be here to meet her grandchildren, but I can just hear her saying “Don’t you worry about me!”
About Kevin Lay
”My mum was called Julie Lay, and she was the greatest mum I could have wished for. A pure soul who put everyone else’s needs before her own, a trait that endeared her to all she met. After a family holiday to Portugal, Mum sadly passed away on 28th February 2020 a short few days after returning. After complaining of being a little unwell on holiday, Mum suffered a cardiac arrest in her sleep at home, as a result of pneumonia. My mum’s favourite thing in the world was sleeping, and despite a brave battle in the hospital, she never woke up. Mum passed away a week or so before her 60th birthday, but every day she was on this Earth was a blessing to all that knew her. #MummasBoy4Life”
