Yesterday I went back to work for the first time. I could have probably taken more time off, I've learned that people don't tend to say no to a grieving parent, but staff holidays meant the business would struggle without me. So I checked my lottery tickets, realised that unfortunately I would have to go back to work at some point, took a deep breath & went back.
I knew it would be hard, but part of me thought that as I was mainly working with emotionally stunted men, it would be okay.
Seeing people who normally only got riled over late deliveries being so visibly upset, whilst trying their best to hide it, was more upsetting than many hysterical hugs. I cried, obviously.
Then there were the emails, the ones I sent before Lauren was sick. The ones sent by a different person, a happy person, a person who didn't know this grief.
And suddenly I was sick of it. Sick of looking on the bright side, of saying we were still blessed to have two healthy children, that we were lucky to have had Lauren, that she had an amazing & happy 13 years. I was sick of all of it. I wanted my old life back, I wanted Lauren back.
I kept busy & held it together at work, but i could feel the dark clouds gathering.
On the way home, on the M6, I cried. Not because of the crappy traffic, but because of the crappy hand we've been dealt
When I walked in & my husband asked how the day went I hugged him and then I sobbed, true gut wrenching sobs, and I told him it wasn't fair (he knows) that I'd missed him today & that it was a really bad day.
Then I got changed into my warm clothes and took my youngest daughter to her football match. I laughed & joked with the other parents and cheered when her team won.. .and I was happy
I guess that's the story of grief and how my life will be from now on. Utter sadness and then joy. Hopefully as time goes on there will be more joy & less pain. .💔