The Spring of my discontent

This is without a doubt the worst September in my life – my father died three weeks ago and yesterday I found out my mum has breast cancer.

I was not close to my dad – he was and is still a tad enigmatic and emotionally closed off, it’s partly the reason I think I feel the incessant need to express myself as I never had a strong feeling of who he was spiritually or as a person. I am most sad in the circumstances how he passed and that he shut himself off from life basically.

So to then have the dust barely settle and learn my mum likely has a rare and aggressive form of breast cancer (at this stage seems likely to be inflammatory breast cancer) is devastating. If you had ever read other posts and wondered where I get my love of intelligence and literature from, it’s her. My cheeky nature is also in part due to her sense of humour, and my ethics in life are definitely hers. She would teach me to read and is very proud I still write (even if she doesn’t know the erotic content!). I’m very protective and close to her, so to literally feel powerless is terrifying.

Why share this you may ask – well, it’s grief, and I’m a firm believer that we need to embrace the sad, the heartaches the soul destroying lows and to acknowledge they happen. I need to honour that which may make me fall. I am free here, with my silent readers to say how it is I feel without judgement, no matter how hard or unsexy that may be.

It should also explain some absence or difference in tone, and likely make some of my expression tinged with sadness and even more existentialism. Death and cancer do that – it’s the duality of connection.

Hugs and good energy are always welcome, and I thank those of you who have been there to talk with and keep me feeling cared for.