As the days go by, the months go by, it still doesn’t feel like it has happened. It just feels like he is happy and comfortable in the lovely Care Home. My mind keeps telling me, when the weekend comes, we will go and see him. We will ask him what he has been doing, what he ate today. Well, we can usually get some of what he has eaten as he has dropped it on his top. He asks me when I am taking him home again, and I lie and say soon Paa, once you get walking, we will take you back. That calms him down and brings a smile on his face.

Mumma brings him 2 chocolates each time which he eats slowly enjoying every moment of it. I hold his hands and warm them up for him as they are always cold, he likes that a lot. I give him lots of kisses and cuddles too. Once it is time for him to go and eat, we wheel him back to reception and hand him over to the staff. Until next time. But here is no next time and never will be.

These days my mind tells me that I will go on the weekend and then my mind says don’t worry about it, we got busy this weekend, but we will go the next weekend. This is how my mind helps me to live each time. In the hope there will be a weekend when I am free, and I will be able to go and visit him.
It feels like nothing has changed. Everything feels the way it has always been, well has been for a year!

When I wake up in the morning, I think about what he would be doing. If its around 10am, I know he would have had his Weetabix with 2 sugars and warm milk. Then he would have washed it down with a cup of tea which would have had 2 sugars. He would spend his morning watching tv with the other residents.

People see me functioning like nothing has happened or as if I have finished grieving and I have accepted it. But I haven’t.

People see me waking up, getting ready and getting on with my day. They see me talking to people, they see me getting my work done on time. They see me eating food, they see me laughing with people. I’m living the days, but I am not loving them. I am not living them because I want to live them, I am living them because I must. I am functioning not living.

When I force myself to accept that he is gone, tears come flooding into my eyes, but I control them because I am around other people, in the middle of my work. I could even be walking through the streets. I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. It leaves me feeling weak and vulnerable, and very alone.

When I work through sorting out his clothes and find his hat, think oh dear I need to get this across to him. He will need it when he feels cold at night. He liked his hat; it gave him comfort and helped him sleep. That was the same for my grandad too. I remember putting his hat on for him every night. Like father like son.

Today I saw something that made me think of Paa, and for that split second, I forgot he is not here anymore. I thought when I see him next, I will tell him about the time we used to sit together and have a good laugh.

Maybe one day it will feel real. Maybe acceptance will come in a way I don’t recognise yet. For now, I am simply learning how to live with something my heart still struggles to believe.