I am a talker, not a writer; I am well known (maybe even famous in my very small circle) for talking. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you – I love to talk, I talk loudly, I butt in on conversations, and I just love to hear people’s stories. I want to know who, where, what and when.
I embarrass my children by talking to strangers at the bus stop or in the supermarket. I talk to the homeless guy who lives outside our local 7-11.
I am sure this was what partly attracted my husband (a man of few words) to me, and 21 years later he still likes the fact that I am the voice of our family. Even though his eyes glaze over at least 4 or 5 times a week when I am telling him something.
I get that from my Mum.
Since she died 14 long, long months ago after a very short and unexpected illness, the talking thing seems to have left my life along with her.
Don’t get me wrong – I still talk (it’s in my DNA) but now I chit chat, I pass the time of day, I talk when I have to. I talk (hopefully) lovingly to my children. I talk at work; I talk to my husband, brother and sister.
It’s just not the same, because I can’t really talk about how I feel, which is wretched… an old fashioned word I know but it is I how I feel.
I avoid people I see who don’t know mum died as I can’t say the words without crying and that just embarrasses them and they don’t know what to do with the 46-year-old woman in aisle 5 who can’t talk for crying.
A lot of the time I am furious with the world because everyone is going about their daily business and getting on with things and I want to scream – how can this be, my gorgeous, vibrant, funny, loving and compassionate mum is dead….
Mum was a talker, always had an opinion, but without judgement……. She taught me to be inquisitive but always compassionate. I loved her for that alone.
I still cry everyday on my own, because people don’t understand the hole she has left in my life.
I am a just get on with it kind of person (she taught me that also) ….. But that is easier said than done when I don’t have her by my side cheering me on.
The hardest thing is that the two people who understand the most about how I feel are the most difficult to talk to. My wonderful and amazing Brother and sister… because they are living this nightmare too and just trying to get through each day the best they can.
Who can you talk to, when the one person you talked to the most about everything is gone?
Julia is a working mum with two boys aged 17 and 5 (that’s a whole other story). She is originally from Scotland and has been married 21 years.