Sundays hit me differently. That’s when the ache deepens. I remember how I would sit with my Mother as we eat, drink, cut word. That simple joy of talking, laughing, exchanging stories always filled my cup! She was an energy booster. I remember I would even tell her that I’m coming so that she can fill my cup. And she would jokingly also say that you bring porridge I have milk! Like wow! And we would share milk tea together.
Now Sundays are quiet. I sit in the silence, listening to the echoes of the conversations we used to have. And I remind myself; this too is part of the journey. And I love it. Because I love you. You loved me back! There is no single day that I don’t remember the love you had for me and my siblings! You had that unconditional love! Oh Mummy! I miss you. Love was your second name!
Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t obey rules. It moves through us like the wind and sometimes gentle, sometimes wild, sometimes still. But one thing is for sure; It never leaves us the same. And we must learn to embrace it.
TUHAME ❤️
