Having my mamma here is normal.
Not having my mamma at the end of the phone or dropping by with the top down on her convertible blaring out Bob Marley from the speakers. That is not normal.
Having my sun loving mamma to laugh and joke and sing with. That is normal.
Not having my mamma to help me choose my outfits and pass over clothes and chat with. That is not normal.
The cancer has come back worse. There is nothing more they can do. How? How is that possible? This woman shines brighter than anyone else I have ever met. Even now, masking pain and fear with love and hugs and laughter she looks radiant. Her clothes are stylish and colourful and still fit her very slender frame. Her hugs are loving and enveloping. Her laugh is full and warm. Her determination is as real as it ever has been.
Mum made it to the top of the hill at Queen Elizabeth Country Park. It's a big hill. She set it as a goal for herself. Even when it got hard she carried on. It's pretty incredible that the Doctors are saying they have nothing else they can do. If they gave her a plan she'd be determined to stick to it. Instead they have offered her pain relief and a few days, maybe a few weeks to live.
I'm so grateful that we have the time to say goodbye. It's so hard not knowing how much longer we have. How many more good memories we can make. Right now if you glanced at her in the street you wouldn't know.
This morning in the pre dawn light we sat on her bed and chatted about cockerels and The Gambia and the conversation was light and funny and normal. Well as normal as an hour long conversation at 4am can be! And when it was really morning we had pancakes. Normal. Normal. Normal.
Grief is the loss of normal. Yes I can see that.