"Certain books can help us articulate what may be too difficult to put into words." My mum died of cancer when I was 19. It remains the worst day of my life so far, and it will take a stupidly-shitty thing to top it. At first it weighed on me physically, how bent the world seemed without her in it. I wanted to vomit all the time, but it was a spiritual and emotional sickness, and couldn’t be easily expelled from my body. As the years passed, the world grew into a new shape. No less confusing or sad, and no less fractured, yet full of a whole set of new blessings I could recognise. I found new people to call my family, to love and protect daily, with a new appreciation, and admittedly fear of, how short a life can be. I often think about how I got through, and am still endeavouring to get through, the most part of a decade without her. There is no real cure, I realise. Time certainly helps, although with time passing also comes the fading of my memories of her, which sucks, and creates its own pain. Little moments of synchronicity […]