My mum, who I loved very much and had a close relationship with, died a month ago. She was 82, was in care with Alzheimer's (which I know she would have loathed and considered to be the height of indignity, had she been really aware of it) and had been deteriorating in the last six months.
Her final month was horrid but fast - she went down with a UTI and sepsis, which was what ultimately saw her off. But she'd had a good life, she was the best mum and the kindest person, she was totally ready for it to be over so I'm kind of happy for her. She's with her siblings and back with my stepdad now.
I have cried on and off, for the mum I used to know - but they call Alzheimer's the long goodbye don't they, because you grieve for the original person after they become somebody different. I think I've been slowly saying goodbye for almost a year, since her first fall at home brought about the beginning of the end and her personality changed more significantly.
There have been moments when the realisation strikes that I'm never going to see her face, kiss her hair, talk politics or hear her laugh again. But I keep kind of pushing that away, because it feels overwhelming. I have otherwise been very practical, making all the funeral arrangements, battling with a rude executor, doing everything alone because my only brother lives abroad (although he was very supportive remotely). I was tearful at the funeral but I got through a poem and didn't break down.
I saw her when she was still able to open her eyes and I told her all the things you want to tell a dying parent. I saw her again in her last stages when only her lungs were still functioning, and I told her how much I loved her. And I saw her body after she had gone, and I chatted to her.
Her ashes are with me now, and I have many photos of her around me. I still talk to her most days. But although of course I feel sad and I'll miss her terribly, I haven't had that awful, gut wrenching, raw feeling of grief that I've experienced with other deaths. The grief where you start crying and think you'll never stop, the pain is so great.
I'm terrified that I must be cold and unfeeling, and that I'm just relieved that it's all over - what kind of a daughter isn't wracked with grief for a mother they adored? Or has it just not come yet? Is this normal?