It's just over a year since I found out mum was sick, and as you'd expect, I am not doing very well. I'm haunted by frequent and vivid flashbacks in which I am mixing milk powder into full fat milk for my mum. It was all she could manage in the last week of her life. I can see myself measuring it out, feeling utterly pathetic and hopeless at the good it will do her. Then I can see her hands shaking as she tries to drink it and the floodgates open. This crying is like nothing I've experienced before. It hurts, and it makes me breathless. I bellow into cushions or the empty flat and worry that I am going insane.
It's going to be a tough Christmas.