The Hardest Day

I thought that yesterday was going to be the hardest day, but I've said that so many times now.

I just need to get through the day that I found out that my Mum died.
I just need to get through the day that the cause of death comes back.
I just need to get through the day I speak with the Funeral Director.
I just need to get through the day of the funeral.
I just need to get through the first Mother's Day.
I just need to get through my Mum's Birthday without my Mum here.
I just need to get through my first Birthday without my Mum here.
I just need to get through the first Halloween.
I just need to get through the first Christmas...

I keep telling everyone, I just need to get through this year. The anniversary of my Mum dying will be the marker. If I'm strong enough to make it through the year then it'll be easier after that. Really, I thought Christmas will be the hardest. Mum loved Christmas and so many of our traditions are tied up in things that we did together, in things that she would delight in, in things that remind me of her... Then on top of all that Christmas 2021 was the last time I spent time with my Mum out of the hospital.

But I got through Christmas Day.

Maybe, today will be the hardest day.

Today, after all, is the day that was our tradition and yes, I feel so done today. I'm in bed, I'm tired and low, and don't want to eat or drink and I want to do nothing. So I'm forcing myself to write (hello blog post), I'm forcing myself to be distracted (thank you Netflix), I'm forcing myself to eat and drink (Turkey Sandwiches and fake Mulled wine) and trying very hard not to disappear into my own head again, because I know it makes my friends and family scared for me.

My friends still rally around, giving me well-meant platitudes that were offered to them when they went through the same experience. telling me "it gets easier", "it gets better".

The problem is, I don't believe them.

I'm starting to think there is no hardest day, that every day from now on will be the hardest day, and that there will never be a day I consider easy again.

I'm starting to think that it doesn't get easier, that it doesn't get better. 

I'm starting to think that we don't learn to live with the grief and pain and the gaping hole that is left in our lives, we just get better at hiding it.

I don't want to get better at hiding it.
I don't want the one friend who is brave enough to tell me the truth (that it never gets easier) to be right.
I don't want to feel that I'm constantly consumed by this.
I don't want to be thinking about it every moment of every day...

I'm hoping that maybe I'm wrong.